Autumn Bliss
by shaeldryn
Summary: Post Eldest: Murtagh has freed Eragon from the king’s torture, yet his brother has lost all will to live. As the season changes, Eragon recovers and slowly begins to trust and care for his older brother. EraMur. M for Slash/Lemon/implied Torture & Rape
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Eragon was written by Christopher Paolini, the canon and its characters belong solely to him.

**Claimer: **The plot is mine.

**Warnings:** This is a slash story with physical intimacy in later (much later) chapters. If that's not to your liking... The story also includes torture and rape, although only implied.

**Important first A/N:** This is set post Eldest. However, I haven't read the books in a while, so maybe some small facts are not quite accurate. I hated the movie, but I liked the way both Eragon and Murtagh looked, so that's how I imagine it for my story: Eragon is blond, has blue eyes, etc. Oh, and he has not gone through that elf-transformation thing. I cannot stand a Larry-Stu Eragon. Period.

* * *

**Prologue**

15th Harvest Moon

* * *

Fate must truly hate him.

A single tear slid down Murtagh's cheek. He could not tear his gaze away from Eragon, who was fast asleep on the large bed in the centre of the room. If a stranger was to enter at this moment, he would probably say it was a scene of peaceful quiet. However, just as likely he would change this statement once he caught sight of the fearful and pained expression that Eragon's face held even in his sleep.

Murtagh sighed and leaned back from the bed. He felt the wetness on his cheek and wiped it away angrily. His crying was the last thing that would help right now. He ran a hand through his unruly dark hair, went over to the big table at the window and slumped down on a chair. His head came to rest on his arms and he closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the light breeze that carried a scent of late summer into the room. He was utterly exhausted.

It had taken all his knowledge of healing magic as well as the skills of his faithful old handmaid, Jora, to pluck Eragon from the claws of death. Close it had been, and still was, as his younger brother had seemingly lost his will to live. This was not much of a surprise, though.

The broken ribs Murtagh had mended with no effort; he was used to performing this spell on himself. The fractured right leg had caused him a small headache at first, but now it was splinted and bandaged and could heal properly. The swelling of the calloused wrists and ankles as well as Eragon's neck was going down slowly and healing scab had begun to form. But curing the flogged back had been a different matter. They had cleansed the open wounds, washing away both pus and blood, and Murtagh had tried to puzzle the lose strips of skin back together. However, too many pieces had been missing and he knew it would take weeks for new skin to cover the once muscular back.

To his frustration, this meant that large scars would remain. Yet Jora had provided some ointment and - more important – had promised that the scars would fade over time.

Unwanted, a memory was pushing its way into Murtagh's mind. He saw his brother being chained tightly to a wall, his back a mess of torn, raw flesh, and blood everywhere: dried in Eragon's hair, on his arms, his back and also running down his legs from an unseen wound between his butt cheeks….

"No!" Murtagh startled himself by hearing his own voice. But this was not the right time to agonise over what had happened.

He looked over to the bed and made a short mental list of Eragon's current appearance. His brother's face looked haunted and his cheeks were sunken in. It was framed by blond hair that was soaked in sweat and stuck to his temples in clumpy strands. His skin, which had always been a proof of his healthy, outdoor life, was ashen now, at least in those places where it was not covered in varying shades of black, blue, or purple.

The young man was tossing and turning now, revealing part of his bandaged upper body. Murtagh suppressed a sigh. If Eragon did not rest well, recovery would take longer; and also, if he did not lie still, the friction between the sheets and the bandages would hinder the wounds from healing.

But nothing of all this was the reason why Death still hovered over the sickbed. It was the fever that held him there. Murtagh did neither know the cause for it nor could he cure it, but the disease was destroying its victim. Physically, Eragon did not have the resources anymore to fight against it, and worse, he also lacked the spirit to do so. His mind probably embraced the oblivion that the fever offered. Jora had explained to Murtagh that this was the reason why his magic was useless in this case: It was mainly an internal battle of the young one, and apparently he had capitulated.

The old woman had prepared an arrangement of herbs and brews that would strengthen the blond, yet Eragon had to be awake to swallow the medicine, as it was impossible to force it down his throat in his momentary state. Murtagh had tried – to no avail. The emaciated body had fought off the healing drink with a force that Murtagh could only accredit to some self-defence mechanism and a surge of adrenaline. It was then that it had hit him: Doubtlessly, he had not been the only one who had recently tried to force Eragon to open his mouth and swallow…

Murtagh got up and walked back to the bed, silently cursing that he had let his mind wander once more.

He took a linen towel and dried Eragon's face, letting his hand rest for a moment on the forehead to determine the temperature. Still burning. His other hand reached down to cover his brother with the blanket which had slid down to Eragon's waist, but he quickly decided otherwise. The blanket was clammy and cold, so he pulled it away completely, hurried over to the cabinet next to the door and got out a clean, chequered quilt. He returned to the bed and draped it around his brother neatly, approving of the result when he was done.

Convincing himself that Eragon was unlikely to wake up anytime soon, Murtagh prepared for another period of idleness and sat down on the small stool at the side of the bed. Sure enough, his brother being awake - if only for a short moment - was his most urgent wish. The sooner Eragon would take his medicine, the sooner he would be part again of the living, conscious world.

Nevertheless, Murtagh knew that the second Eragon woke, a new, severe problem of quite a different nature would make itself felt. Because for his brother, he was only one thing: the archenemy.


	2. Information

**A/N: **Notice the date, it's before the prologue. And I mention Kirtan; take a look on a map of Alagaësia if you want to know where that is.

* * *

**Information**

13th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh heard of the capture the second he and Thorn got back from their latest scout trip. So the edgy feeling that had been accompanying him for hours was not mere imagination. He inhaled deeply once to sort out his thoughts, noticing the well known scent of too many people crowded in one place. The late summer's heat did not exactly lessen Uru'baen's stench.

He followed Thorn into the large hall where the red dragon resided and hurriedly unfastened the tack of his friend, meanwhile sending him a mental picture of the two of them talking later. Then he set out for the short walk up to the archaic, sinister castle that was located on a small hill, overlooking the city. The guards and soldiers he passed saluted respectfully and within minutes he found himself in the throne room.

Dark, thick curtains covered the small windows, letting in neither the warm air nor any light, and only every second torch on the walls was on fire. The room was just as gloomy, cold and stuffy as Murtagh remembered it. He suppressed an ironic smile; he had always thought that this room was just as likeable as his inhabitant.

King Galbatorix was expecting him, not surprisingly.

The Rider kneeled in front of the king, who was seated on his throne, and bowed his head. "My lord". His voice was steady. The calmer he appeared, the sooner Galbatorix would get to the point - a lesson Murtagh had learned long ago.

"Ah, my dear little apprentice, you're back." The elderly man sounded rather cheerful, at least for his standards. "Any news from the east worth reporting?"

Murtagh got up and looked the king straight in the eye, something only a handful of people in the empire were allowed to do. His voice took on a military tone. "Small divisions of the Varden were attempting to pass by Uru'baen unnoticed through the desert. They were ill prepared. When I checked the area again two days later, the Hadarac had taken its toll – and vultures were feasting on fresh corpses. The only other troop movements were on the outskirts of the Beor Mountains. However, they hid in ravines and caves when they caught sight of me."

"What is this, a war of boredom?" The king rolled his eyes. "Impotent, incapable Varden, it's a shame that I have to put up with such enemies."

Murtagh sneered inwardly. What a liar. Galbatorix was never leaving the safety of the castle walls – it was Murtagh who fought the king's war.

"Anyway, I'm sure you have heard…we've got a visitor." The king was suddenly in high spirits. "And he might just be the solution to this problem."

"I heard upon my arrival. When did you get hold of him? Where? And who…?" Bold, direct questions, certainly, but Murtagh knew that what cost others their tongue held no risk for him.

Galbatorix contemplated the young man in front of him briefly. He was rather proud of himself for having turned the talented and headstrong offspring of his oldest ally into a mighty warrior, the single most feared and hated person alive in this country – after himself that was, of course. "Eragon has been an honoured guest of my dungeons for three days now, and just as long my officers have been attempting to get the information we need. They have not been successful so far – I guess stubbornness runs in the family." The king interrupted himself to shoot a side glance at Murtagh. "As for the 'who'…you're not the only powerful servant I have, a fact you often forget. And not all fail where you do."

Murtagh did not flinch at that. Not anymore. On the one hand, trying to keep his emotions in check while Galbatorix was around was nowadays as natural to him as breathing, and on the other hand, he was perfectly aware that it was an idle threat. Despite what the king was saying frequently, Murtagh knew himself to be the most important part of the old man's schemes for crushing the Varden.

"He was taken prisoner in the north, just outside of Du Weldenvarden, near Kirtan," the king continued. "What he was doing there is another thing we have not yet learned from him, but time will tell."

Murtagh was perfectly aware that it was not time that would tell, it was just a matter of Galbatorix finding some way to break the younger Rider's defences. "What is it exactly that you want to learn from him?"

"You know that no army functions without organization or supply, and it's quite evident that your brother is involved in the whole planning. I'm certain that, with his knowledge, we can finally gain on that ever evading, stupid mass of people the Varden call army."

Murtagh knew what the king was referring to. The empire troops were better trained and better equipped than the Varden forces, but that did not really help, because they were forever chasing the latter and not fighting them. Since the Battle of the Burning Plains, there had been no fights that involved more than a couple of hundred people. And Murtagh was well aware that Eragon, mounted high up in the sky on Saphira, was the main reason for the Varden fighters being able to escape constantly. His brother had developed a lot of skill in predicting empire movements and reacting in a way the Varden thought adequate: Helping their troops get away and evade open battle. Thorn had actually complained to Murtagh that he would like to 'play' once again with the pretty blue dragon lady, but she was never around.

Murtagh reached out with his mind briefly. "I do not feel another dragon's presence here besides Thorn and Shruikan. Where's Saphira?"

The king looked a little cross at that. "It's another thing we don't know and I must say it worries me somewhat, as she is the only female dragon under the sun these days. I daresay she's of more value to us than her Rider."

"She would not be of any use _without _her Rider!"

Galbatorix smirked at the response that had come a bit too fast. For the first time Murtagh had shown some protectiveness of his little brother. The king knew that his Rider felt sympathy towards that Varden boy; after all, it was all of a family he had. But as Eragon openly despised his brother as the traitor that he was, Galbatorix was not disturbed. Quite the opposite, actually. Knowledge of Murtagh's feelings was scarce, and positive emotions that could be shattered were rather practical for controlling him.

Murtagh cleared his throat. "Am I going to see him?" This was crucial to him, but he would not let the king know.

"Ah, yes, I was getting to that... No, you're not." Galbatorix watched his apprentice carefully and he got his reward: Murtagh's face gave him away, if only for a split second, but that was enough. "... At least not in the way you would expect," the king proceeded, "as I'm convinced that your presence would have a rather negative effect on the interrogation. Your brother's resistance would probably strengthen out of pure hatred for you. And I take it that you don't want to participate in the questioning yourself? That would naturally change things a bit." Galbatorix chuckled.

Murtagh's face was an iron mask again. During his training he had been forced to take part in such "questionings" and the memories of the masses of blood and screams of pain still haunted his dreams at times. He shook his head.

"I thought so. But, as I'm not a brute, I welcome you to stay with me for a little longer, as I expect my officers and their fosterling to give me my daily report on their progress any minute."

As if in answer to that, Murtagh heard footsteps approaching and turned around in time to see three high ranked officers enter the chamber and behind them, slowly and limping… Eragon.


	3. Brother

* * *

**Brother**

13th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh felt as if he had been stabbed with a dagger of ice, his heart froze and his whole body went cold. All he could do was steady himself so that his now shaky legs would not give way. He had recognized his brother immediately, of course, but that was not the youth he had met on the road so long ago, and surely not the considerable warrior that had fearlessly opposed him on the Burning Plains.

His hands bound tightly on his back, Eragon was tugged into the room with a chain attached to a metal collar around his neck which was almost strangling him. Of any clothes that he might have worn, only some sort of loincloth remained, and he was shaking. Yet Murtagh would have been glad if that shaking was only a sign of the cold, because clearly it was due to so much more.

Eragon's body was covered in a mixture of blackened bruises, fresh, open wounds, and dried blood on previously tormented flesh. Moreover, he looked very thin, and the little bit of his skin that was left unscathed did not have a healthy colour. His right leg was bent unnaturally, apparently causing him pain not only when walking but also when standing still. One of the guards held a whip and Murtagh shifted slightly to get a look on his brother's back, which confirmed what he had not wanted confirmed: the whip had been used often and excessively. Murtagh cursed heavily under his breath and retreated a few steps, merging with the shadows around him.

It was then that Eragon looked up and focused on Galbatorix. Shaking his head quickly once, he cleared his vision, banning the blood-crusted hair from his eyes. He held his head high and proud and straightened his posture as much as possible.

Murtagh felt a fierce pride inside of him. Brave, young warrior! He had been tortured, too – with another aim, but nonetheless – and knew what this attitude must cost Eragon. Especially Eragon, who had _not_ had a lifelong training in bearing pain. Murtagh fought down the feelings that tried to show on his face. His heart knew where he belonged: his place was at the side of his brother. But fate had played one of her evil tricks and positioned him with the enemy.

"Ill-bred Rider with no dragon," the king addressed his prisoner with a sneer. "Do you have any news for your rightful king today?" His voice was icy now, no trace left of the rather playful unfriendliness that had shone through earlier. Murtagh recognized the underlying threat immediately.

Eragon did not hesitate to answer, nor did his voice falter. "I serve no king and I will not betray those I am loyal to!" The guard on his right instantly smashed the handle of the whip into the back of his legs and Eragon dropped to his knees, unsuccessfully trying to prevent a cry of pain. Still, he held himself upright.

The king sighed quietly. He had gone through this before when he had dealt with breaking Murtagh, and it had taken far longer than he had liked. He needed to find a way to speed the process up this time. Back then, it had been the red dragon surprisingly hatching for Murtagh that had changed everything, making the new-born Rider comply. Now Galbatorix eventually remembered who else had arrived this morning and an idea was forming in his head. "You have been flogged, beaten, poisoned and you are deprived of sleep and food." He counted it off on his fingers. "And you're not telling me anything. You _are_ aware that it is exclusively up to you how bad this is going to get, scum?"

"Coincidentally, that what you seek is all that you have left me with: the sanctuary of my mind." Eragon sounded resolved. "I will not abandon that, for I am only safe with my innermost thoughts now."

Murtagh gasped audibly. Those words were not new to him, and to hear his brother voice them aloud in this situation caught him completely unawares.

Eragon turned his head quickly to the direction the sound had come from, but could not perceive more than a dark figure standing in the shade. Automatically he reached for his magic to help him out, but found only a dull blankness in his mind.

Galbatorix chuckled. "My, my, I admit the circumstances are not as jovial as one could wish for. Let the happy family reunion begin. Murtagh, show yourself!"

Murtagh made one decisive step forward, braced himself internally, and looked over to his brother. Hazel eyes met blue, restrained emotions met violent hatred. Murtagh tried to reach out for the other's mind, finding only a fortress there.

Eragon had frozen. "Traitor!" The venomous sound seemed to linger in the silent room.

Murtagh turned his gaze back to the king. "May I retreat, my lord?" Whatever had been intended with this meeting, he needed to get away from there.

Feasting in the momentary control he had over his Rider's feelings, Galbatorix only reluctantly raised his hand in a gesture of approval, watching Murtagh withdraw. "Rider, one thing!" he called a second later.

Murtagh stopped dead on his way out and turned around slowly, questioning the king with his glance. "My lord?"

"I am not finished with your brother yet… but I guess it's as fruitless today as it has been in the past. So here is what will be happening next. You know a dozen of my northern warriors have just returned this morning?"

Murtagh shrugged, spending only the shortest of moments to think about the wild, cruel Northmen with their barbarous behaviour that the king had recruited earlier this year.

"They have accomplished their last task and are already enjoying themselves with women and liquor in their quarters. However, I know of their preferences and have decided to grant them-" the king paused, focused on Eragon and pronounced the next words distinctively, "some _stimulating_ extra pay. If", he raised both his voice and a hand to prevent Murtagh from saying anything, "if _you_ want him, too, I'll give him to you first, as surely there won't be much left to have fun with afterwards. I know that you find pleasure in stilling your needs with men at times." Galbatorix' sneered viciously.

Murtagh's usually pale face was snow-white by now. He fought the sickening feeling in his stomach as well as the urge to storm at the king, his sword drawn, in a suicidal attempt to inflict some pain. He glanced at his brother who had not changed his posture or mimic, demonstrating that he clearly did not know what was awaiting him. Murtagh figured it was better this way, hell would be upon the young one soon enough. His chest tightened, he became acutely aware of the possibility that Eragon might not make it through the night.

Calling upon all his willpower, he turned on the heel and left the room quickly. The king's poisoned laughter followed him, resounding from the walls he passed by.


	4. Defeat

**To my reviewers:** Thank you so much. I'm really happy that you like it so far, after all, it's not really a cheerful story up to this point (and a little longer still). It's my first fanfic and therefore my first reviews, too ;)

**-DDudeDerek:** Don't cry, please. :all worried is: Some day there will be a happy end. Prove can be found on my note sheet(s)

* * *

**Defeat**

13th Harvest Moon

* * *

The second he was off the castle's premises, Murtagh let some of his shields down and immediately felt his dragon's presence._ Thorn! Where are you?_

_Right where you left me, of course, where else? _Thorn's dark baritone sounded rather amused.

Murtagh directed his steps along the castle wall, unaware of the people that tried to get out of his way in time, and arrived at Thorn's place within a minute. His dragon was cosily curled up on a bed of straw, bathing in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. It made his scales sparkle and shine, but Murtagh noticed nothing.

Thorn eyed him questioningly. _Now, what has crossed your way, Rider? Is it true, then, that there's a ghost haunting the lunatic's place? Tell me, is it male or…_ his sarcasm died down as he perceived the intensity of emotion that radiated off his Rider. Hatred was one of them, which did not surprise the dragon, but sadness? Helplessness? Pain? Thorn was confused. These sensations did not belong to the usual repertoire of his friend – or to his own, for that matter.

Murtagh paced up and down in front of his dragon, randomly kicking at chunks of dirt. He tried to sort out his thoughts and not think of either his brother's unforgiving expression or the fate that awaited him. _Thorn, do you remember the night we spent in the little cave in the Beor mountains? _He felt his dragon agree and stopped for a moment, looking into the large, golden eyes. _And do you also remember what I told you about my motivation why I'm_ not _going to run for it with you and leave this hell behind?_

_Eragon,_ Thorn replied instantly. _You want to make sure that your baby brother doesn't get squashed in the war._

Murtagh sat down alongside his dragon and patted the rough scales absentmindedly. _For the first time in my life I have found true friendship, and, unlike Eragon, the knowledge of the blood we share has done nothing to lessen my feelings._

_That's all?_ Thorn cocked one over-dimensioned eyebrow at his Rider._ Because I've heard what you sometimes mutter when you're asleep_… He put on a face that Murtagh easily identified: It was his dragon's equivalent to a human who wanted to look smug.

_You know very well that I have not yet figured out what exactly I feel for him. _Murtagh gave the massive body next to him an irritated slap, causing the dragon to let out a small puff of smoke in blithe response. _But he means a lot to me, one way or the other._

_I know, I know,_ Thorn appeased him, turning serious again. _And I can tell that you're in pain. Will you tell me what happened?_

_I will…_ Murtagh informed Thorn of what had taken place in the throne room, illustrating his words with images of his injured and yet so proud and beautiful younger brother. Luckily, his dragon needed no sound to comprehend, as Murtagh was sure that his voice would have failed him.

When Murtagh had finished, Thorn was rendered silent for a moment, digesting the information. He knew instinctively that his Rider needed comfort and thus repositioned himself, curling around his friend and laying his head next to the sitting male. He communicated as much a feeling of calm and security as he was capable of.

Murtagh pulled his knees up to his body, wrapped his arms around them and laid his head to rest on top. He did not notice that all his defences had dropped and Thorn was seeing his every thought. A confusing mix of pictures was rushing through his mind.

He saw Eragon the way he had been when they had first met on the road. He watched him dressing and undressing during their scarce resting time, remembering the tanned and healthy body of the youth, moving effortlessly and gracefully.

Next there was an image of his brother as he had seen him today, which immediately turned Murtagh's thoughts to a small, dark and damp cell, where he himself had been chained to the walls once. He recalled how it had taken all his strength and a lifelong practice_ not_ to cry out loud as the iron rods had crashed upon his body and the king had attacked his mind.

Now Murtagh saw his brother's face up close, first happy and smiling after they had made it across the Ramr River, then wondering, quickly followed by shock after the revelation on the Burning Plains, and lastly the expression of pure hatred that the bruised face had shown earlier.

Then there was Murtagh's trip to the far north a few months back, where he had spent the night in one of the villages of Galbatorix' new allies. He remembered the men assembling, enforcing their law on a girl for some misbehaviour, abusing and raping the little body in a way that Murtagh had not thought possible. The next morning the corpse of the girl had been found in the lake.

He had witnessed a similar scene in a similar village a few days later, this time the violated person had been a boy. In his head, the features of the boy changed shape as he was held down on a large tree trunk. The Rider now saw his brother there, screaming for his tormentors to stop and all of a sudden locking eyes with Murtagh, pleading for help, pleading for his life…

_Murtagh…_ Thorn's voice was very gentle, interrupting the next scene that was forming. _Pull yourself together, this won't help._

_This can't be happening, Thorn. I can't _let_ it happen._ Even in his head it was only a mere whisper.

_Rider, come to your senses! _Thorn sounded reasonable and authoritative._ If you – and I for that matter, too – interfere the way you probably intend to, it will surely result in our death. And it will not change what is going to happen to your brother, you–_

_Thorn_, Murtagh cut in,_ you exaggerate. Our life is not at stake, therefore I will not sit still and do nothing when–_

_Murtagh!_ Thorn growled furiously. _Think! What does the madman need us for? To beat the Varden, yes, but he's got an army that can do the job as well. He needs us, because our opponents also have a Rider, who is a threat to our troops. But now things have changed. Eragon is out of the battle, thus we're not irreplaceable anymore._

The Rider knew his dragon's arguments were justified, but he was not willing to yield to reason. Once again he saw what he had witnessed, saw his brother's already abused body. _We don't have to fight, you know._ His mind worked rapidly to come up with something._ Why not break into the dungeons, get him out of there and run for it? I don't care for this war anymore than you do. I don't care if Galbatorix wins – if only we are far enough away by then. You and Eragon are the reasons I live, nothing else!_

_Tss, my oh-so-smart Rider, and you don't think the king has thought of the possibility that we might interfere? _Thorn had gotten up and now he was the one pacing around, his weight causing the floor to shake slightly with every step he made. _You know we're not powerful enough to oppose him, let alone Shruikan. Focus for a moment, Rider. Can't you feel that the old wacko has alerted his dragon?_

Murtagh closed his eyes and concentrated briefly, and sure enough he noticed the menacing presence of the huge predator piercing the air. In an instant his shields were back up and Thorn had to force his way back into his Rider's mind.

_Believe me, I am the last one who wants to see you in pain, but we cannot act the way you wish to. _The sincere sadness in the dragon's voice shattered his Rider's last, useless resistance.

Murtagh's shoulders dropped and a silent sob escaped his lips. _Twenty-one years now, Thorn, I have lived a life so cruel that long ago I arrived at the conclusion that fate must hate me. _He looked up and followed his dragon with his eyes._ I am despised for more or less justified reasons by about all people that have ever heard of me, including the only person that I care for. I have to pillage, torture and murder for a cause I do not support or believe in. The faces of those I killed visit me in my sleep, telling me that they're waiting for me. But fool that I am, I had actually thought that this was it, that it could not get any worse. I guess I was wrong. I feel like it's tearing me apart._

_It's not_. Thorn was firm and positioned himself in front of his Rider, lowering his head to be on eye-level. _It's not, because you're strong, stronger than that maniac with his ridiculous crown. And it runs in the blood, young one. Your blood – and Eragon's. Have you not shown me how he held himself today, after all that he's already been through? Don't give up on him yet, and don't give up on hope either._

_Hope!_ Murtagh snorted. _Right. Hope. As if, Thorn. What shall I hope for? That he loses his consciousness quickly? They won't let him. That he dies before his body and mind are shattered? They will also not allow that, Galbatorix needs the information._

_No,_ Thorn said softly,_ we will place our hope in Eragon's will to survive. He can make it through this somehow, of that I am sure. Once the old freak gets what he wants he will lose his interest. Then you will go and ask for your brother and-  
_

_Thorn, I–_

_No! Let me have my say! How many times have you been offered slaves as toys and you turned them all down? Chances are that Galba will grant you the blond when all is done, and let it be for the simple reason that it satisfies his perverted sense of humour._

The Rider and his dragon exchanged a long and meaningful glance. Eventually Murtagh looked away and nodded slowly. _You might be right Thorn. But I can't only stand by passively. Let's go and pray to all the Gods we don't believe in to protect my brother. __To prevent him from losing his will to live._


	5. Minds

**A/N: **Honestly, I feel so bad for what I'm doing to Eragon, but I need that for later in the story. So there's more unseen background torture for him in this chapter. :'( But I promise, I'll free him soon!

**Reviews:** Gosh, you make me update faster than I originally intended to. It's fall break for me right now, but starting on Monday I'll be back at university with only 1/10 of the time to write, but we'll see.

**- Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole: **Thanks a lot, but don't die, please ;)

**- DDudeDerek: **Hmm, Thorn doesn't like what Murtagh is thinking about Eragon? Then you know more than I do xD Nah, actually I just wanted him to be the reasonable one, as Murtagh is not capable of that right now.

* * *

**Minds**

13th Harvest Moon

* * *

Thorn made sure to keep his Rider as far away from the castle as possible for the rest of the day, half kidnapping him when he went on a small hunting trip. As a result, Murtagh angrily closed his mind to him. Thorn was not bothered much – he had not expected anything else. His own thoughts were too occupied anyway. He brooded over ideas what he would do if the hope that he had planted in his Rider's heart would not come true. Though trying as hard as he could, he did not come up with a satisfying solution. His concern for Eragon was limited, yet his worry for Murtagh stretched to infinity. For the first time in his life, Thorn was dreading the future.

When night fell they were back within sight of Uru'baen and Murtagh revived the contact to his companion. _I have no intentions to enter the castle again today_._ Will you grant me asylum? _His attempt at humour was ruined by his serious tone.

Thorn was pleased nonetheless. _I would not have let you out of my sight anyway._ Finally, his Rider seemed to have come to terms with their plan of action.

Thorn landed deftly on the little space between his 'home' and the castle wall and made sure that his Rider dismounted and followed him inside. He heaped up a small mount of clean straw with his paws and nudged Murtagh with his snout so that he fell on top of his makeshift bed. With this, the male dragon's wisdom of motherly behaviour was used up and with a puff of smoke he dropped to the ground beside his companion.

The strain of recent events had taken its toll on Murtagh; he was not able to suppress a small grin due to Thorn's demeanour. Was that_ his_ dragon? The same that teased him mercilessly whenever he, Murtagh, showed feelings that could be interpreted as tender? Well, close observation confirmed it. The beast at his side was huge, red, scaly, and smelt slightly of fish and smoke.

_Rider, you should eat something._ Thorn was rather proud to have thought of another piece of maintaining a human.

_I can't, Thorn._ Murtagh's protest was weak but his decision unmistakably clear. _Besides, what do you have to offer except half rotten deer? _

Thorn considered it beneath his dignity to react to that last remark. Instead, he wrapped his tail around his Rider, careful that it only touched him with the soft bottom side that had no scales. He radiated as much calm and dormancy as he could, hoping to overpower the emotions he felt through his connection with Murtagh. _Sleep now, young one, I will watch over you._

Still it took several hours until the combined efforts of fatigue and Thorn won and Murtagh dozed off into a restless slumber.

It was one of those nights that he dreamt intensely, but it was not as he would have expected.

He found himself playing with a fair-haired boy in a field of wheat, none of them older than ten. He knew with a dreamer's certainty that the other boy was Eragon, though they had never met as children. They were chasing each other around cheerfully, when all of a sudden the blond stumbled and fell. Murtagh wanted to help him up – the younger one seemed to have twisted his ankle – but when he stretched his hand in the direction of the other boy, the distance between the two seemed to grow. The harder he tried, the faster his brother moved away. Eragon's quiet sounds of discomfort rapidly turned into loud screams of utmost pain, blue eyes were torn open in mortal fear –

Murtagh woke with a start and found himself face to face with the huge head of his dragon.

_It was only a dream, Murtagh._

He shook his head. "No, Thorn. I wish it was, but I know better…" He shivered. Cold sweat had broken out on his skin. Sensing his dragon's incomprehension, he explained. _Shielding your mind is the first thing every magic user learns. However, there are situations when you're not in control of these mechanisms. Dreaming, for example, and also… pain. Or rather, when the pain becomes too much to bear. In that case, the mind rids itself of all unnecessary tasks and focuses merely on surviving._

"I was connected to Eragon, Thorn, it somehow happened as both our guards were down at the same time. It's hard to describe. For a split second I was there with him and felt… something… I don't know…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Something shattered right now, Thorn. Some part of my brother is dying…" Murtagh sat up slowly and hugged himself, still shivering. His brain was working furiously. He wondered if he could connect to his brother again over the distance. And if so, whether it was possible for him to transmit some sort of energy or at least some comfort. He had to act quickly, though, because the second that Thorn got wind of this, he would interrupt.

Murtagh got up and moved a few yards away from his dragon, stretching himself. He relaxed somewhat, readying himself for the state of mind in which he usually meditated. Like leaves in autumn his defences dropped down one after the other.

Not long now; Murtagh began to sense the presence that had excluded him so forcefully in the throne room this afternoon.

"AAAAHHHHRRGG." Fiery pain ran through Murtagh's body, causing him to double over. Yet he managed to focus solely on the two pictures he had prepared in his head. One was of the little boy he had gotten to know earlier in his dream, the other one Murtagh's precious only memory of his mother, Selena. She had turned her head towards the onlooker, welcoming him with bright laughter. Little boy – Selena – little boy – Sel–

_Rider!_ Murtagh was hurled to the ground brusquely. Thorn was towering over him, pinning him down with a paw. _What in fate's name you think you're doing? As we agreed upon earlier, we will not risk our life here, because that won't help._

_I didn't risk– _

_Yes, you did! I felt my energy rush to your support already. Why do you think it took me so long to stop you? _It was a rhetorical question. _Why do you even try to sneak past your dragon in the first place? _He sounded hurt now. _Enough of it, you get that? _

Murtagh nodded hesitantly. He was torn between his dragon and his brother. Reason told him that Thorn was right. Still he was mad at him, because his heart and soul ached to rush to his brother's defence. And then, without asking for it, he lived through what he had felt during the short connection with Eragon. He twisted under his dragon's claw in agony.

_Oh no_, Thorn was explicit, _I won't let you relive anything of what you've seen and felt today._

_I can't block it out__, Thorn. _Murtagh sounded desperate

_Do it! You will need your vigour in the days to come._

_I _can't_! __The memories are meddling with my mind. _

_Yes you can…._ The dragon thought for a moment._ Remember your studies of the ancient language? That huge green volume you had to read? Tell me what it talked about in the second part of the first chapter!_

"What?" Murtagh was so confused by Thorn's strange request that he effectively forgot what was tormenting him. _You want me to tell you about the nursing of broad-leaved tree saplings?_

_Yes… No. _Thorn chuckled quietly_. It doesn't matter, as long as you recite properly._

Murtagh finally understood what his friend was getting at and readily accepted the chance to keep his mind busy. Thorn released him from his grip and the Rider positioned himself comfortably at one of his dragon's flanks, beginning to recite. Thorn kept jumping around between books and chapters, so that Murtagh could not let his thoughts wander.

Lastly, with the first grey light of morning, he drifted off to sleep.


	6. To Breoch

**A/N:** More geography in this chapter. I made a village up.

**Reviews:**

**-DDudeDerek:** Yay, I'm happy that the connection of Thorn and Murty comes across just as I want it to.

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole: **:hands over a precautionary wig: ;)

**-animeluva713:** Thanks a lot. Believe me, I can't wait for the interaction either, but I'm also really afraid somehow. I know exactly what I want to happen, but I'm not sure yet if I can actually write it.

* * *

**To Breoch**

14th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh was woken up ruggedly by an anxious Thorn around midday. He wondered briefly how it had been possible for him to sleep for so long.

_What's going on, Thorn?_

_You've just been summoned to the madman and I've got a feeling that you should hurry._

Murtagh was fully awake in an instant and headed for the exit, not caring about his rumpled appearance. _Do you have any other news?_ He did not have to add what kind of news he meant.

_I'm sorry, Rider, but I don't. It has been a very quiet morning. _Thorn did not mention that a few of the Northmen were in fact not far away from them right now – drinking some more in an alehouse in the city - because he knew exactly what Murtagh would do. And killing the king's soldiers would not help with what they wanted to achieve.

_I'll see you later, then. And be prepared for just about everything, Thorn. I don't know what's going to happen today. _Murtagh was almost inside the castle now and closed his mind. Yet when he entered the throne room, he found it empty. A guard on the door bowed and beckoned him to follow. Soon Murtagh was in a spacious, bright hall at the south side of the castle, which was actually lit by daylight. The king stood in front of a large map of Alagaësia, surrounded by high ranked military officials of the empire. Murtagh kneeled in greeting.

"Murtagh, how kind of you to join us. Come, take a look!" Galbatorix motioned for him to step forward.

Murtagh got up and walked to Galbatorix' side, the officers making room respectfully.

"That little toad who is your brother was all willing to let us into his head this morning and we can finally take steps against the renegades." The king was gleeful, causing Murtagh to feel nauseous. He swallowed hard. What had happened? Was Eragon still alive? If yes, how was he?

Galbatorix ignored his Rider's obvious discomfort and pointed to various points on the map. "These are the main hiding places of the Varden outside of Surda. Apparently they are very shattered at the moment and their main forces are hidden deep in the Beor Mountains. According to the wimp, they are relying on him to inform them whenever smaller divisions of our troops are moving, in the hope to outnumber them. As we all know, they haven't exactly been successful so far. Now that they're deprived of their Rider, though, they will have to change their course of action. Which is good, bored as we are." He interrupted himself to give his subordinates time to laugh along with him dutifully. Murtagh's expression was frozen.

"But unfortunately for them, their information system is rather thin and they're also no the quickest thinkers. It will take some time until they learn of their severe loss in the first place, and then it will take even longer until they will come forth. This ultimately means that we won't battle them for another long period; however, we can station our army conveniently right where the Varden will emerge from the mountains. Until then, you're all free to spend some leisure time however it pleases you." Low murmurs could be heard in answer to this surprising permission.

Murtagh could not keep silent any longer. "My lord, what of Eragon?" His voice held only a slight tremor.

"Ah, I knew you were going to ask. Yet it's a mystery to me what you see in him, he's such a weakling, albeit one with a nice arse." More dutiful joviality.

Murtagh's right hand was chlenched into a fist so forcefully that his fingernails bit into the flesh.

"Well, this morning he was still somewhat alive, or I wouldn't have gotten these wonderful bits of information. I don't know about now, though - whether he's still breathing or not. If he is, it won't be for long anymore. He'll soon follow his dragon to the nothingness that awaits the feeble people."

"I want him!" Murtagh's voice was a threatening whisper. His was slightly dizzy. What did the king know about Saphira?

"Now? You want him _now_?" The king started to chuckle. "But there isn't really anything left of him. Why would I reward a faithful servant with that? It's like giving your dog a rotten carrot for a treat. Or do you fancy organizing funerals?" Galbatorix was laughing in earnest now. "Each to his own, Murtagh, but you are truly strange. However, as Eragon is of no use for _anything_ any more, I'll let you play with him. You can pick him up in the dungeon; you know the cell."

"I will and Thorn and I are leaving Uru'baen today… to 'spend some leisure time'."

The man to the right of Murtagh drew in his breath sharply. No one _ever_ spoke to the king and decided on his own like that, no matter if it had previously been allowed or not.

"What a rebel you are, Murtagh. Thank your gods that I'm in such a good mood today. You may leave, but remember how fast I can track you down."

Murtagh bowed his head. "I do, my lord." And with that he was out of the hall, his legs hurrying on their own towards the stairs that led to the dungeons below the castle.

* * *

The next hours passed by in a haze. Murtagh's mind put him in an almost trance-like state, he acted automatically, not really aware of what he was doing. Thorn guided him along discreetly for most of the time.

Later, Murtagh had to concentrate hard to recall what had happened after he had entered his old cell. He remembered the cold and how it had reeked of excrements. Eragon had hung limp in his chains on the wall, hardly discernible as human anymore, covered in all imaginable body fluids. He had whimpered quietly when Murtagh had freed him and would have dropped to the floor like a sack of flour if the older one had not caught him. Fortunately, he was deeply unconscious, because otherwise, every touch would have resulted in more pain.

Murtagh had wrapped Eragon in his cloak and had lifted him up, surprised at how little he weighed. He had left the dungeon with his brother securely in his arms, Eragon's head resting against his chest. Thorn had been waiting right outside the castle gate and Murtagh had mounted him, never wondering let alone asking who had saddled his dragon. He had carefully placed his brother in front of him and locked his arms tightly around Eragon as Thorn ascended into the sky, heading south.

* * *

It was high up in the air with the wind blowing in his face that Murtagh came back to his senses. He huddled Eragon even closer, afraid that it might get too cold for him. The countryside below was no more than a blur, but Murtagh did not care; he had given Thorn directions and trusted his companion to find the way. The dark-haired let his thoughts wander ahead, to the stately home in Breoch that was their destination. The estate as well as the small village nearby was part of the property that he had inherited. He owned more land, people and estates than anyone could possibly need, and did not even know half of them. In Breoch, however, he had spent some time of his childhood and the memories were pleasant ones.

Thorn was excited. His plan of action had worked out well and he simply dismissed the fact that Eragon was half-dead, because it was not in his power to do anything about it. So he concentrated on what he_ could_ do: Speeding as fast as possible and at the same time flying smoothly so that the injured young man in his Rider's arms would not be shaken too much. He had never been in Breoch, of which Murtagh had told him repeatedly, and he was curious what it would be like. He knew it was to the southeast of Furnost, near the banks of Lake Tüdosten, and he strove to reach it before dusk. And usually when Thorn set his mind to something, he achieved it.

The sun was low and of a dark orange when the dragon descended and first laid eyes on what was to be their home for the next weeks. He landed in a large, walled courtyard in front of a two-story mansion, which showed clear traces of permanent vacancy but was impressive nonetheless. It was made of light tawny bricks with large shuttered windows, the walls were partly covered by ivy and an oversized balcony on the first floor was overlooking the courtyard. A glance to the left told Thorn that he did not have to go unsheltered either. There was a wooden barn that was large enough to house at least two dragons, _if _they fit through the doorway.

Murtagh slid off Thorn's back swiftly, still holding Eragon in his arms. He kicked open the front door, crossed the entrance hall and walked up the stairs, heading for the big room that was connected to the balcony. He noticed dimly that there was surprisingly little dust or cobwebs in the house, considering how long no one had been here. Once in the room, Murtagh placed Eragon gently on the bed, realizing that underneath the cloak his brother was still naked. He quickly pulled the covers over him, not caring if they got dirty.

Yet he was unsure in what order to proceed. He was certain that none of Eragon's injuries were actually life threatening; it was the overall condition that had him worrying. Eragon had lost a lot of blood and was terribly weak, and Murtagh felt that a fever was starting to break out. He decided he needed help.

He rushed out of the house and ran down the footpath towards Breoch. It was about a mile away, but he told Thorn to stay behind, because a dragon up close would scare the villagers even more. He arrived at the small, wooden houses at dusk, alarming the few people that were still outside. He did not care that they ran away or hid, he was too used to this reaction.

Eventually he stood in front of a small hut on the edge of the village, desperately hoping that the person he was looking for still lived there. He knocked on the door twice, and for once, he was lucky.


	7. Care

**A/N:** The chapter is horribly short. I am very sorry.

**Reviews:**

**-IHateSeverusSnape: **Thank you :bows:

**-animeluva713:** When I started writing, I kind of assumed they would stay in Uru'baen, then I figured that wouldn't be good. And as I didn't want to focus on how they are running away with the empire troops on their heels, I made up this holiday. Still doesn't solve the interaction problem, though.

**-DDudeDerek:** Oh, I never even thought of that. Doesn't make sense to me, though, I'm pretty sure Angela is with the Varden right now. Also I can't think why she would have lived in such a small, trivial village in the middle of nowhere, as Murtagh expects someone who is "still living there". No, flip back to the prologue, it's one of my OCs.

* * *

**Care**

14th Harvest Moon

* * *

The door opened and Murtagh stood in the cone of light that was leaking outside.

A wrinkled old woman with a silvery bun looked fearlessly up at the warrior in front of her. "Murtagh. You're back." It was a simple statement; no surprise could be heard in the raspy voice.

Murtagh was more than a little startled. It must have been at least ten years since she had last seen him and he knew he had changed considerably. Still, she had recognized him right away and sounded just as he remembered her, as if she was only welcoming him back from a hunting or fishing trip. "I am, Jora, and I need your help. I did not return all by myself." Murtagh automatically acted as if he _had_ in fact been gone only for a day or two. He had always turned to her for help – with bloody knees as well as a mushroom poisoning – and somehow he felt they were still on the same basis as they had always been. No formalities or non-relevant talk was needed; with Jora, you always came to the point immediately.

"A dragon, I've heard. I'm not sure how I might be able to help you…" Her voice trailed off and she stepped back inside, gesturing Murtagh to follow her into the single room. A fire was blazing merrily in the fireside, filling the room with golden light and warmth.

"A dragon, yes, but also another man." Murtagh remained outside, urgency evident in his voice. "He's injured, badly, and I need you and your medicines."

Jora gave him a quizzical look. "You're a Rider now," she chuckled, "what do you need _me _for?" Yet her actions belied her words; she was already grabbing herbs that hung in large bundles under the low roof and rumbled through small flasks assembled on a table in the corner.

"Rider I am, but my knowledge of healing is limited. And I've learned early that there are many things that can't be cured by magic." Murtagh held open his hands, offering to take the pouch that she had been packing. Jora gave it to him, reached for a woollen shawl that she pulled around her shoulders, stepped out of her hut and quietly closed the door. Murtagh was shocked when she was standing next to him. She was so small - her head barely reached his chest - and looked like the lightest of winds could blow her away. Somehow he had remembered her differently. Then again, he had grown about two feet since their last meeting, turning from lank child to broad-shouldered man.

They hurried along the path to the mansion and there was no need for Murtagh to rush the old woman as Jora recognized a true case of need. She asked Murtagh about Eragon's condition and he described it to her as accurately as he could. The look on the woman's face grew darker and darker the more she heard.

Jora entered the courtyard in front of Murtagh, told him over her shoulder to get water from the well and walked resolutely to the door, her steps faltering only a short moment when Thorn let out a low rumbling. She could not know that what sounded to her like thunder in the distance was in fact a male dragon's amusement.

_Hohoho, Rider, where did you find the old hag? I didn't know such people existed outside of your human bedtime stories._

_Hush, Thorn. That's Jora, she has worked on this estate for decades and I know her well from my childhood. She's extraordinary when it comes to healing. _Murtagh hoisted a bucket full of fresh water and made his way to the house.

_Is she trustworthy?_

Murtagh stopped at the door and turned around. _Is there anyone that we can really trust these days, Thorn? At least I know that she wishes me no harm. And she's always loyal to the helpless; she won't do or say anything that could endanger Eragon. As for the rest, I trust you to keep an eye open and scare away any approaching villains._ With a smile he went inside.

_I will, Rider, I will. __What's more to a dragon's life than a watchdog's career?

* * *

_

Murtagh and Jora worked in companionable silence until late in the night. The Rider had lit a fire in the fireside on the wall, warmed the water with two quick spells and had started with what he was best at: mending bones. Jora had begun with washing Eragon carefully and applying salves to his skin. Both worked with skilled and gentle hands, lost in dark thoughts about what had caused all the injuries. Then they had spent what seemed like an eternity focussed on the back, only slowly admitting defeat. Eragon would forever be marked. Lastly, they had bandaged all that was necessary, with the result that not much of the young man's skin was left uncovered.

By midnight, when they were almost done, the fever hit Eragon fully. Jora shook her head to Murtagh's silent question. There was nothing they could do about it. "I'll also leave you some medicine for this, then, Rider. But I don't think you will have success with it soon. This is a battle that the young one has to fight mainly on his own." Jora's eyes were full of pity when she looked at Eragon. "All you can do is take care that he's comfortable, neither too hot nor too cold or too sweaty… and pray."

Murtagh's voice was low. "I don't believe in any gods, Jora. Nothing has happened in my life that indicates the existence of anyone in the heavens. Anyone looking out for me."

At that, the pity in Jora's eyes was extended to the tall, dark man on the opposite side of the bed. She noticed his right hand holding the slightly smaller one of Eragon tenderly, his eyes fixed on his brother's face. Then she took her pouch and walked to the door. "Fetch me if you think it's necessary, otherwise I will be back in two day's time – I doubt he'll gain consciousness before that." She paused, looked at Murtagh who had not moved an inch, and added: "I'll send my granddaughter tomorrow, to take care of the household and cook for you - I'm really too old for that. She knows her way around here; we've been cleaning the house once a year."

Murtagh finally looked up and gave Jora a weak smile. "Thank you! For everything." She left the room and Murtagh closed his eyes, concentrating for a while on the sizzling noise of the fire and the warm hand he was holding.

"Listen, Eragon… brother…" His voice was very soft. He had opened his eyes again, the firelight turning hazel into auburn. "I know you hate me and I can even understand you somewhat. But you will not hurt me by dying, understand that? Hurt me any other way once you're awake and able to, but _do not_ die. I never knew I had a little brother to look out for, and when I found out, I was not in a position anymore to protect you the way I should have..." Murtagh was choked up and swallowed hard. "But now I am here with you, Eragon, and I swear that you are safe with me. So don't you dare leave me."


	8. Night

**A/N:** In the first draft of this Eragon woke up in the end and I had a _really _nice cliffie – my first cliffie ever. Now it's gone. The end just didn't feel right. But I promise: next chapter, Eragon is there, alive and awake (maybe even a bit too much). Before I forget: **Notice the date, it's the day of the prologue. **Chapter sets in _**after**_ the prologue.

**Reviews:**

**-Marcus1233:** yep, I tried to get Thorn alive and I had to do that in the first chapters because later on the story will focus mainly on Era/Mur. I imagine him as someone who really loves himself, loves Murtagh, too, and is (I think you can tell) very sarcastic. And still, when it's necessary, he's the best friend Murtagh could ask for.

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole: **:confused is: why don't you want Paolini to write book3?

**-XsuicideXkittyX:** hey, you're good ;) at least Eragon will try to hit him. it's all in the next chapter ("Struggle")

* * *

**Night**

15th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh jerked and jumped up, sword drawn in an instant. He thought he still heard a faint echo of a clacking sound in his head. He spun around quickly, eyes scanning all corners of the room, but there was nothing.All was quiet - he must have imagined it.

The light came slanting through the windows, glowing golden, telling Murtagh that it was late afternoon. He sheathed his weapon and tried to calm his pumping heart. He told himself that he was being foolish; if any danger was drawing near, Thorn would alert him. He yawned extensively and stretched himself, joints cracking in protest. He must have dozed off on the stool next to the bed, and his neck and back rewarded him with stiffness.

Bed! Eragon! Murtagh's mind started working again and he hurried to his brother. He could not tell if anything had changed, Eragon looked just the same to him. Two days, Jora had said, until he wakes up, which meant another day of waiting. However, this night Murtagh would have to sleep; the last he had spent anxiously at his brother's side, watching the fever gaining strength and alternately cooling Eragon's face and wrapping him in an extra blanket, depending on whether the blond was going through a cold or hot phase. Murtagh was really feeling the strain of the recent past now.

Yet first of all, common sense told him that he had to eat. In response to this thought, his stomach grumbled and he decided to go and look for something edible. Right then he heard light footsteps in the hallway outside, followed by a tentative knock on the door.

Murtagh drew his sword again and positioned himself protectively in front of the bed. "Come in!" Military commanding tone.

Slowly, the door opened and a young woman of no more than twenty years became visible, carrying a tray. It left her hands the second she became aware of the combat-ready man in the room; her shriek mixed with the sound of the tray and its contents all crashing to the floor. Panic was clearly discernible in her tanned face and she started to retreat backwards.

"No, stop!" Murtagh swiftly laid his weapon to the floor _Thorn!_ In his head, he was roaring. His voice, however, was reassuring. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm Murtagh. I'm sorry I scared you." He squatted to pick up the things that had dropped to the floor, and after a moment the woman did likewise, her hands shaking nervously. _Thorn?_

"I'm so sorry. This is such a mess. The soup and ale spilled and the bread is soaking it up. I can't believe I let the tray drop, please don't be mad at me, I'll go and fetch a new meal right now–"

"No, no, it's all right, I guess I must have scared you badly." Murtagh's hand touched his face experimentally, feeling the stubble that had begun to grow. Overtired as he was, with his dark clothes and the big sword he must indeed look a real wretch. "You must be Jora's granddaughter?"

She nodded in response, light brown curls dancing around her face. "Her youngest; my name is Rynia."

_Huhhh…?_ Thorn's yawn was audible even in his Rider's mind. _What's going on?_

"Rynia." Murtagh tested the strange name. "That's very pretty… Do you think you can manage in the house?" _Why didn't you tell me there's someone around?_

The woman gave him a beautiful smile along with her answer "Of course, sir, I know this place well. I will come by once a day, clean a bit and cook for you. I can also carry messages to my grandmother, if you need me to. And now I'll get you your supper - again." Apparently she had lost her fear and busied herself cleaning the floor.

_Because it is just a tiny female, I didn't think you'd consider that a threat…__ By the way, are you flirting with her? Rrrrynia?! _He pronounced the name in mock imitation of his Rider.

"Thank you, and Rynia, I'm just plain Murtagh, no 'sir'." _No, I'm not, but as I didn't know who it was I frightened her and I don't want her to fear me. _

"Yes… Murtagh." Rynia curtsied and was gone. Murtagh heard her whistling on her way back to the kitchen, the sound fading away in the distance.

* * *

He spent the evening in an armchair at the window, randomly picking at the food in front of him. He was losing himself in thought, staring into the mesmerizing flames at the fireside, feeling their warmth on his face.

He woke late at night and found the room lit only by faint moonlight – the fire had died a long time ago. He stepped to the open window and watched the sky, noticing the eastern horizon begin to light up slowly. He loved this hour. When all was quiet and the world drew one deep breath before dawn, Murtagh felt that he likewise gained energy and serenity of mind. He automatically started thinking about Eragon and forced himself to be completely honest.

Did he like him as a friend? Certainly. He had from the first moment on and the last months had changed nothing. Did he like him as a brother? He liked the thought that there was a connection between them that would always last, no matter how Eragon felt about him. But of the feelings that brothers were said to have for each other all he felt was protectiveness, nothing more. And he knew perfectly well why: He felt far more than that.

Last proof – if he had still needed one – had been their flight here, when he had held the blond closely, sensing the fluttering heartbeats against his chest. He did not know whether he would still be able to bear Eragon's hate after this realization, because he thought of him in a way that he had never thought of anyone before. He was not able to put a name to the feeling, as it was too new for him.

In the world outside it was commonly known as love.

Murtagh's thoughts were interrupted by a small cry, followed by whimpering, clearly coming from the bed. With three quick steps he was there, watching his brother. Eragon looked agonised, his head turning from side to side and he was murmuring incoherently. A nightmare had replaced the unconsciousness.

"Eragon…" Without much thinking, Murtagh climbed on the bed and sat down behind his brother's head, his back against the headboard. He carefully pulled Eragon up to him, tenderly cradling him in his arms. His heart flinched at the sounds of discomfort when he embraced the younger one, but he could not avoid touching his back. He began to rock back and forth very slowly and leaned Eragon's head against his own, feeling the soft hair on his cheek. He placed his mouth close to the younger one's ear. "Shhh, I'm here with you, Eragon. It's all over, you're safe, it's only a dream. Don't be afraid."

Ever so slowly Eragon calmed down and after a while only an occasional sob broke the silence.

Murtagh could not remember if Selena had ever sung lullabies to him, in any case he knew none. So he just started humming random notes, not following any melody. This did as much for him as for Eragon, who was eventually completely calm. With a relieved smile, Murtagh noticed that the body he was holding was still glowing but not burning anymore. Eragon's heartbeat was strong and even now, beating along with Murtagh's own heart in unison. Little by little the improvised lullaby died away and Murtagh stopped rocking. Very gently he brought his lips to Eragon's bruised right temple and kissed him, breaking away after a few moments. "No one will ever hurt you again," his whispered fervently, "as long as I'm there to protect you. But I can only do that if you let me. Please!"

He ruffled through the fair hair, gave Eragon another small kiss and laid him back onto the bed, only reluctantly letting go of the body in his arms. He stayed on the large bed as well, resting on the edge and enjoying the horizontal. He turned to his side and watched Eragon with a small smile on his lips, sure that the fever was declining and that the younger one would not sleep much longer anymore. Then his smile faded and he decided to rest some more, too. Eragon awake meant only one thing: serious trouble.

It was only when he was almost asleep that he began wondering why it had been possible for him to calm Eragon the way he had. If Eragon despised him so, why had he relaxed in his arms? However, Murtagh drifted off before he found a satisfying answer.


	9. Struggle

**A/N:** Finally… Eragon wakes up. I don't know if the magic in the end makes sense, but I couldn't think of any other way to lock the windows.

**Reviews:** I finally understand what other authors mean with living off reviews. Thank you guys so much, you make writing even more fun for me.

**-DDudeDerek:** Ahh, don't apologize. you don't have to review every chapter. I hope I could lighten up your class a little for you? ;)

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole:** Oh, ok, I get it ;) But I'm not much of a CP fan, so it's useless. I'm writing as fast as possible anyway.

**-animeluva713:** I just looked up this Tamora Pierce at google… never heard of her. Whatever I wrote, it was unintentional. and I've never really thought about OC's before… these two just jumped into my head, telling me Murty would never manage on his own. After all, he's their lord and they feel this typical strange responsibility for him… hard to describe. Often happens in such relationships.

**-Jack Skellington's mistress:** Oh, we like Eragon/Ed, do we? ;) I must confess, I'm more of a Murtagh-fangirl, but I'll try my best with Eragon. After all he's a cutie.

* * *

**Struggle**

16th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh had left the room early in the morning, leaving a quietly sleeping Eragon, and had walked around the house, taking in the details. How small everything had become in contrast to his memories! After stopping at the kitchen and eating some of the food that Rynia had stored away, he decided to take a little care of himself and went outside. At the small stream that passed the estate on its way to Lake Tüdosten he bathed and shaved, feeling almost newborn afterwards. He lingered around for a while and his eyes followed Thorn, who was enjoying himself with risky flight manoeuvres in the distance. Then his feet moved on their own, back towards the house and back towards Eragon.

When he entered the room, Eragon was half sitting in the bed, supported by his left arm, thirstily helping himself to water from the bedside table.

Then several things happened in a rush.

When Eragon noticed Murtagh in the doorway, he let the cup in his hands drop, tumbled off the bed and staggered towards Murtagh's sword that still lay on the floor from the previous day.

Murtagh cursed himself for his forgetfulness and sprinted in the same direction, but he was not quick enough. Eragon was clutching the sword hilt with both hands and directed the tip towards his brother, who was only a few feet away. His arms were shaking from the weight and it looked like his legs were about to give way. "Don't move!" he hissed. "Don't move or I'll cut your throat!" Sweat was already showing on his skin from the exertion; at the same time he was shivering – he was completely naked except for the bandages.

"Eragon." Murtagh slowly raised his hands in a reassuring gesture. "Eragon, this is madness. Drop the sword and calm down." He made a tentative step forward.

"Don't move, I said." Eragon's face was a grimace of pain and hatred and he began to sway in earnest now.

"Eragon, listen, we can settle everything, _everything_, once you're well again. But not now, look at yourself, you're weak and sick, you have to rest." Murtagh watched Eragon's eyes closely, waiting for the smallest sign of response. "You have nothing to fear of me, I am not your enemy and there is no one else here." He sighed. "And put that damn sword down, you can't fight me. Don't forget my magic."

"I will only put the sword down and rest once you're dead, _murderer_!" With that Eragon lifted the weapon and made a step forward, but he was far too slow. Murtagh disarmed him instantly with a spell, the sword dropped to the ground and he put a foot on top. Realizing that he could not fight, Eragon tried to get to the door. But in his condition it was more than useless; Murtagh blocked his way before he was halfway there.

Murtagh's eyes were blazing. "For fate's sake, Eragon, can't you see what you are doing to yourself? Go back to the bed, anything else is insane…" No reaction. "Don't make me force you," he pleaded.

Eragon did not move and simply stared at Murtagh hostilely.

The dark Rider inhaled deeply once and then closed the distance between him and Eragon in an instant and grabbed the younger one's wrists, pulling him to the bed. Eragon winced, Murtagh's grip on his calloused joints hurt and he was frustrated that he could not help being dragged along. Murtagh pushed the blond onto the covers, ignoring his feeble struggle. The longer the contact between his hands and Eragon's wrists lasted, the more anxious his brother got, trying with what little strength he had left to get free. "Please, lie still." Murtagh was desperate.

"You-You're not com-manding me," Eragon gasped, his attempt at authority failing. "I won't lie here unarmed and ... _naked_ at your mercy. You say you're not my enemy? Then let go of me!"

"I can't Eragon. I would if you were well, but not like this…" Deep sadness was in Murtagh's voice and it reached his eyes when he decided to do what he had previously considered his last option. His left foot felt around under the bed for a moment and then produced a rope and he quickly bent down and picked it up.

When Eragon saw what Murtagh held in his hand a small cry escaped his lips and he tried one last time to fend off his brother, panic showing clearly in his eyes.

Murtagh closed his heart and swiftly bound Eragon's hands above his head to the upper bedpost and his feet to the lower one. Eragon ceased fighting and went limp and Murtagh thought he saw a single tear on his cheek before Eragon turned his head away. It was an image of such helplessness and resignation that it nearly choked Murtagh. "I'm so sorry…," he whispered, threw a blanket over Eragon and fled from the room.

* * *

Murtagh found Thorn in the barn; his dragon was evidently expecting him.

_Rider… I heard noises from your room__. Eragon is awake?_

Murtagh slumped to the ground next to his companion and laid his hand on the scales as he always did when in need of steadying himself. _He is… and he tried to fight me. I had to force him back to the bed. _

_Well, some people have to be forced for their own good, right?_ Thorn was not sure yet what his Rider was getting at.

_Thorn…I _bound_ him to the bed. I did the same thing that his torturers have done… I want to help him and first thing after he wakes up is this._ Murtagh slammed his fist to the floor so forcefully that he felt the impact up to his shoulder._ I'm making it worse, much worse. I am reminding him of his trauma when actually he should be resting. It will be hell for him in any case to come to terms with the abuse – and me of all people rescuing him – and there's no way he can already face that._

_Rider, I really don't want to sound heartless, but he _has_ to stay in bed at the moment, right? I'm certain he's not even able to walk ten yards in his current condition. If he does not accept that… you don't have a choice. _Thorn told himself he needed to change the topic, at least slightly. _Could you give him the medicine? That should help with the recovery, I think._

_No, I couldn't. _Murtagh sounded resigned. _And for sure I can't do it now or in the near future, he'd probably spit it right in my face. Besides, I'm not going back there soon anyway. I cause him a lot more pain than he is already in. He has drunk some water, so I don't have to worry about that._

Thorn swore mentally, his tactic had failed. Think, spikey lizard, think! _Didn't Jora want to come by today to check on Eragon? It's probably not so good an idea, is it?_ Very good. _I think you should go and prevent the old lady from taking an unnecessary walk. _

_I probably should… _Absentmindedly Murtagh patted Thorn goodbye and left the barn.

_Chin up, young one! Can hardly get any worse, can it?_

_Thorn, _Murtagh managed a frail smile, _optimism is a good character trait, but I'm not so sure about your nutty spirit.

* * *

_

He returned to the house only after the sun had set, all too aware that it was definitely no behaviour of good nursing to delay it for so long, but he knew he could not stand anything like the scene in the morning again.

He tiptoed to the door of the room and only when he could discern the deep, steady breath of someone sleeping did he enter. He lit a fire and turned to the bed, immediately unfastening his brother, who curled up into a ball with a sigh. Murtagh replaced some of the bandages and took a clean cloth, wet it, and quickly washed the dried sweat off Eragon's body. The fever had not gone down any further; this morning's exertion had probably interrupted the convalescence.

Murtagh went over to the windows and the doorway that led to the balcony and locked the shutters carefully with magic. He would not put it past Eragon to try to jump or climb down from the room, regardless of his splinted leg and other defects. Better no fresh air than a disastrous attempt of escape. On his way out, he stopped at the bed again, placing his hand gently on Eragon's cheek. Murtagh's face went soft with the memory of the previous night. He made sure there was enough water available and left, locking the main door behind him.

Thorn was waiting silently, lifted a wing, and his Rider huddled against the warm stomach. He felt Murtagh's thoughts swirl around and then quiet down, giving in to sleep.


	10. Meow

**A/N:** I couldn't resist the title. :)

**Reviews:** Wow… you know what makes me really happy? No one has complained about my English so far… I'm German after all. I'm trying hard to get this halfway right, and apparently it's working. Yay for student exchanges!

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole:** Hihi, I could basically sign everything you said in your last comment. Thumbs up for Garrett, thumbs all the way down for Arya :)

**-animeluva713:** Yeah… he's getting an unintended break from the hate soon. I don't like it either, I feel bad for him.

**-Drowned Hopes: **Yes, of course they'll get along at some point… I want a fluffy lemon ;) I'm happy that you like the portrayal of Thorn… the way I picture him makes me want to have a dragon, too.

* * *

**Meow**

17th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh stood in front of the door and could not bring himself to turn the key. He had woken a little while ago and then busied himself with the complete needless task of tidying up the barn. Eventually Thorn had thrown him out, calling him a coward, and now here he was.

He sensed that Eragon was awake and was sure that the younger one knew he was standing outside. He tried to imagine what he would come across in the room, how his brother would welcome him. He made sure that his sword, which was now securely buckled to his waist, moved in its sheath easily – maybe Eragon had turned some piece of furniture into a weapon.

He turned the key.

Eragon lay in the middle of the bed, his hands and arms on top of the blanket, his head turned towards the door. The fireside was cold, so there was only a dim twilight in the room and Murtagh could not make out Eragon's face clearly. He decided that first of all he needed to start another fire; he wanted to reason with his brother and had to see his reactions.

"Good morning!" He went over to the fireplace, not expecting and not getting an answer, built a small heap of logs and muttered _"brisingr"_ under his breath. Flames began to dance around, lightening up the room noticeably. Murtagh faced Eragon and his blood ran cold. Nothing had changed in the younger one's expression. "How are you today?" He approached the bed cautiously, stopping when he noticed his brother stiffen.

"Fine!" Eragon snapped. "I'm enjoying myself a lot being miserable, and it's even better being miserable as your prisoner."

"You're not my prisoner, Eragon," Murtagh told him, slowly moving around the bed to get to the bedside table.

Eragon followed every move with his eyes. "Oh, really? Then why am I locked up in this room? And why," his voice dropped to a whisper, "why did you bind me yesterday?"

Murtagh considered his answer for a moment, meanwhile finding that most of the water was gone. "Eragon," his deep voice was calm, "in case you haven't noticed, you were badly injured, you have a fever, and your body is emaciated. You are in no condition to leave the bed, let alone the house and walk away. The exertion would simply kill you."

"You did not answer my questions!"

"Well, you tried to fight me and run away, what else could I do?" Murtagh shrugged. "You really left me no choice and I have already apologized to you yesterday."

Eragon snorted and turned his head away. "Spare me your empathy, traitor. I don't even want to know what you have planned for me once you consider me fit enough to leave this room."

Murtagh could not prevent himself from getting louder and harsher. "For fate's sake, Eragon, who do you think I am? Why would I even heal you in the first place if I considered you my foe? I have planned nothing four you whatsoever, do you hear me? I'm your brother-"

"No!" Eragon was facing him again, his pale cheeks flushed with fury. "You will _never_ be my brother! We have nothing in common! Never in my life have I met anyone as hypocritical as you! You care for me? Then start by letting that mask down and show who you really are. My enemy pitying me makes me sick." He had talked himself into a rage, causing Murtagh to retreat further and further from the bed the more he said. The sad eyes of the older one made Eragon feel nauseous.

Murtagh sat down on a chair at the table and rubbed his hands over his face, not looking at Eragon anymore. After a while he had his voice under control again. "This is rubbish. We should not be having this conversation right now." He shot his brother a quick glance, making sure he had his attention. "The reason why I'm here is that I want to talk to you about your condition. Do you at least agree with me on the state you're in?"

Eragon nodded reluctantly. "Apparently you weren't able to heal me properly, yes," he added tauntingly.

Murtagh sighed. "No, I wasn't and it doesn't make me happy. That's why there's medicine on the table and I want you to take it. And no," he answered Eragon's critical look, "it's not poisoned or anything – how much sense would that make? It will help you get better and prevent long term damage. So can you take it on your own? Otherwise I'll force you…"

"I'll take it," Eragon agreed. "I can't imagine feeling any worse." But he did not sound as hostile anymore.

"Thanks. Furthermore I can assure you that I won't bother you with my presence any longer than necessary and I will knock on the door audibly before entering. I take it that you can rest calmly when you're sure that I'm not around?" Eragon nodded. "Do we have a truce then?" Hazel eyes were questioning blue ones.

Eragon accepted with another nod of his head, tension slowly leaving him. The talking had made him tired, he silently willed Murtagh to leave so he could sleep. As if hearing the unspoken request, Murtagh got up from the chair, beckoned to Eragon and left. Eragon heard the sound of the door being locked and footsteps stride away before he fell into a feverish slumber.

* * *

Murtagh spent the day threshing on old hay bales in the courtyard, ignoring Thorn's scoffing remarks on his fighting technique. When Rynia showed up in the afternoon, carrying a basket with foodstuffs in her arms, he happily accepted the distraction and went with her to the kitchen, telling her he would like to help with the preparation of the meal.

She felt that he did not want to talk and, respecting other people's privacy, she contented herself with giving small, foolproof tasks to Murtagh and was dancing lightly around him, as he was constantly in her way. When he actually opened his mouth after a while and asked her where she lived, she rewarded him with a beautiful smile, telling him of her parent's house in the centre of Breoch. However, the talk died down quickly afterwards as the young man had evidently other things on his mind.

When supper was done, Murtagh thanked Rynia and walked her to the door, asking if she could bring Jora along with her tomorrow. She nodded and was gone with another smile on her lips.

He returned to the kitchen, gulped down the meal without tasting anything and then filled a bowl with some broth. Eragon could not live only of water, of course, yet Murtagh did not think he could handle anything else but liquids at the moment. He also grabbed another jug of water and went upstairs, making a lot of noise on the way, and hammered with his foot on the door. Eragon reacted immediately. "Come in!" He sounded muted but had certainly been awake. Murtagh entered the room.

He was prepared this time and did not let Eragon's aggressive stare get to him. He arrived at his brother's side and put the bowl and the jug on the table. "I brought you something….You need to sit up, though. Shall I help–"

"No. I can do that, " Eragon said while he tried to straighten up, "very well… on… my own." The rest came out through clenched teeth.

Murtagh knew better than to attempt to touch him, so he only grabbed a big pillow and placed it behind Eragon's back, carefully keeping as much distance between the two of them as possible. He saw that Eragon could manage with the bowl and spoon and turned to leave, wishing a quiet "Good night!" over his shoulder.

"Murtagh…"

Eragon's low voice stopped Murtagh; his heart missed a beat at hearing him say his name. He turned around wonderingly. "Hmm?"

Eragon needed a moment to answer, he was unwilling to ask Murtagh for anything. He looked down at his hands, his right thumb tapping against the bowl. He barely opened his lips when he spoke. "Are there any clothes for me?"

Murtagh had to strain his hearing to understand what his brother had mumbled. "No," he shook his head, which was unnecessary as Eragon was still looking down, "close-fitting fabrics wouldn't do your skin any good, it's better to stay like you are under the covers for a while–" Murtagh paused when Eragon turned his gaze back towards him, looking unbelievably lost and broken-hearted. To hell with the skin. "But I can rummage through the house tomorrow, once there's enough daylight to distinguish between rags and clothes. I'll find you something to wear for you."

"That would be great," Eragon whispered. "I…thank you."

Murtagh decided not to push the moment, gave his brother a small smile and left the room.

* * *

What he really needed now was something to drink! He strolled down the stairs, heading for the kitchen. And what Eragon needed was company. However, he, Murtagh, did obviously not fit into that category, as he made his brother feel even worse. But being alone all the time would cause Eragon to think rather sooner than later about what had happened to him, something he was still able to suppress at the moment. Murtagh knew that for many reasons people with a trauma should not be left alone, yet he did not know what he could do about it.

He realized that he had been standing in the kitchen for a few minutes now, staring blankly at the wall. Consulting his memories for a moment, he thought of older men emerging happily from the estate's cellar, cheeks reddened, carrying small kegs with high proof liquor. Brandy. That's what he wanted.

The door to the cellar was ajar and creaked when he pulled it open. Murtagh grabbed a torch from the wall, set fire to it, and descended downstairs. All around him was the sound of tiny feet scurrying away. He found many dusty shelves and mouldy boxes, but nothing to drink. Deciding not to leave before having searched the basement thoroughly, he went to the last corner – and nearly jumped out of his skin when he was greeted by a violent hiss.

He raised the torch high over his head to see what was ahead of him. In the corner ahead of him was a pile of barrels and kegs and on top of it was a little orange cat, arching its back in the vain attempt to appear bigger. Murtagh laughed out loud, both about his reaction and the little creature defying him.

"Hey you," he chuckled, "what are you doing here? Protecting my alcohol? Or do you want to keep _me_ away from it?" He stretched out his free hand and clicked his fingers and the little monster suddenly turned into the baby cat that it was. Murtagh picked it up and held it against his chest and the kitten immediately started purring and rubbed its head underneath his chin.

"Ha! I know I have a talent for scaring others, but apparently even I can make friends at times. Let's get out of here." Ignoring the brandy he went back upstairs and put the torch away, finally able to pet the cat. "Now, let me see…" He held it over his head for a second. "…You're a boy. And I think I have a better job for you than guarding my cellar." With the kitten on his arm he went upstairs, knocking on Eragon's room. There was no answer. He reached out with his mind and found his brother sleeping, so he just opened the door and walked over to the bed silently.

Eragon was resting peacefully and Murtagh's eyes went soft seeing it. "I brought you some company," he told him almost inaudibly and put the kitten on the blanket. The little cat seemed to like it and curled up smoothly next to Eragon's waist. Murtagh fondled its neck and addressed it quietly. "I hereby assign you to watch over my brother. That is an official order! And don't you purr so loudly…."


	11. Arrangement

**A/N:** I invented mountains.

Eragon's Elvish in the end is the oath of Murtagh during the Battle of the Burning Plains: **"Upon my word as a Rider"**.

**Reviews: **Thanks guys, reviews make my day (and this time they also boosted my English ego xD)

**-DDudeDerek:** Funny that you ask about her now, because the answer is…right here, in this chapter ;)

**-XsuicideXkittyX:** Hmm, I have no idea what 'heslin' might be.

**-animeluva713: **I figured I have to change it at times (this chapter again), however, Murty is way easier for me.

* * *

**Arrangement**

18th Harvest Moon

* * *

Eragon woke because he was freezing. The blanket was down at his feet, he had probably kicked it off during the night. Ignoring the pain in his back and arms he reached down and pulled it up, stopping halfway. Something was _on_ the blanket. In the dim light he saw only a dark clump of no discernible colour or shape. Suddenly it moved, alarming Eragon – but only until he heard a distinctive purr.

"Well, who might _you_ be?" he murmured as the kitten approached him. It rubbed itself with pleasure against Eragon's outstretched hand, purring even louder. The hint of a smile touched his lips.

With considerable effort he pulled himself up into a sitting position, his back against the headboard. The cat followed and came to rest in his lap, weighing so little that it did not bother him. He grasped one of the small vials on the table and forced its content down his throat. Immediately afterwards he emptied a big cup of water, trying to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth. Yesterday he had felt some effect of the medicine right away and he hoped for another boost now.

He examined his condition as he did on a daily basis, however, for the most part he could only judge by what he felt. He wished that the shutters were open so that he could take a good look on himself.

The fever was retreating; Eragon thought that his temperature was almost back to normal. Yet it had left him exhausted – even patting the cat made his arm tremble slightly. His whole upper body was extremely sensitive to touch and his back still hurt like fire. His right leg had not liked him jumping around two days ago and he just hoped that he had not damaged it any further in the process. His wrists and ankles did not hurt anymore, neither did his neck, but they were beginning to itch badly. Finally he concentrated shortly on his most private parts: he felt a dull aching between his buttocks and an indefinable pain further inside. The whole area somehow did not seem to be part of him anymore.

He quickly leaned forward and then pushed his back against the wood. A pained groan escaped his lips and for a moment he was paralyzed.

"I'm sorry," he managed to tell the kitten after a while "Didn't mean to drive you away." The cat eyed him suspiciously from the far end of the bed, undecided whether it should jump down or not. "The pain stops me from thinking, see? Come back, please, I promise I won't scare you again." He scraped the mattress with the fingers of his left hand, moving them slowly around in a circle and soon the play instinct of the little creature won. It came sprinting and leaped on his hand, biting his index finger and running its claws into his palm.

"Ouch! If you were twice your size that might even hurt." Eragon flipped the cat over on its back and could not stifle a little laugh when the kitten accepted the challenge and attacked his hand with new vigour.

Suddenly he heard footsteps outside and instantly forgot about the cat. Murtagh.

He straightened and pulled the blanket up as high as possible in his sitting position, feeling absurdly protected by the thin fabric. He answered the knock on the door and focused on the dark-haired. Murtagh was dressed in black as always, his sword and a big knife at his waist. For a split moment he seemed to be surprised to find that Eragon was not in a horizontal position.

"Hey… it's yet another morning."

Eragon could not judge the older one's tone, but he knew him well enough to recognize the tense posture. Murtagh was carrying a bundle of clothes under one arm and was holding a bowl in front of him. The scent of fresh vegetable soup began to fill the room and Eragon's stomach grumbled.

Murtagh was still at the door. Eragon heard him sniff and saw him furrow his brows.

"It's really stuffy in here," Murtagh said to no one in particular. He walked to the big table at one of the windows, put down the things he was carrying and murmured something incoherently, causing the shutters to fly open.

Bright sunlight burst into the room, quickly followed by a fresh, warm breeze. Eragon noticed that the cat, which was celebrating its victory over the limp hand, was of a vivid orange. He patted its head, wondering briefly if Solembum had ever been this small. He looked up and found Murtagh staring at him with an oddly pleased look.

"So you have befriended then?"

What was that in Murtagh's voice? It sounded almost like… hope? Eragon figured that he could as well talk to him - maybe he would learn anything of interest. "If you consider me being attacked an act of friendship… yes." With satisfaction he noticed Murtagh flinch at the ambiguous meaning. Then his curiosity won. "Where did the little thing come from?"

Murtagh averted his eyes when he answered. "I found it… him… in the cellar last night. And instead of getting drunk I brought you some company."

"So you're a boy?" Eragon asked the cat. "Why, that means you might actually grow to be impressive one day."

Murtagh was approaching him and put the soup on the bedside table. Then he dropped the bundle of clothes on the bed and showed Eragon a dark green tunic and brown pants. "The clothes won't fit you well, they are too big. It's on purpose, because of the skin… what I explained to you yesterday."

Eragon could not help but feel gratitude towards Murtagh. At least he let him regain some dignity. "Thank you!" He looked at Murtagh intensely, wanting him to understand that he meant it. A shy smile showed that Murtagh did and Eragon found himself thinking that it made the usually cold face look rather handsome. He shook his head confusedly. What was he thinking?

Murtagh returned to the window and sat down in an armchair. The smile had been replaced by a worried look. "Eragon, I need to talk to you about something important… but first let's do a check-up. How are you today?"

"A bit better," Eragon replied readily. What did Murtagh want to talk about? "For the first time my head's not hurting and my skin is not so oversensitive anymore. However, about every part of my body is itching, especially underneath the bandages. When will they come off?"

"That's not for me to decide." The answer startled Eragon. "I had help dealing with your injuries. An old woman from the village, Jora is the name, applied all those herbs and salves that are underneath the bandages. I have sent for her to come by today and she'll be able to tell you how long you will have to be wrapped up like… this." He waved his hand in Eragon's direction.

He had sent for the woman? Sent whom? Eragon swallowed down the questions and concentrated on a more crucial issue. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

Murtagh sighed and folded his hands. It took a while before he answered. "I think this is something you might not like, but I have to know for various reasons…" Eragon stiffened involuntarily. "Eragon, what happened to Saphira? Galbatorix… he… indicated that she might be dead." Murtagh was eyeing his brother closely.

Eragon released the breath he did not know he had been holding. He had expected something else. He cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "No… no, she's not dead. At least I think not." He paused for a moment. He had not yet allowed himself to think about his beloved dragon. Immediately his heart started aching, crying out for the missing friend. Eragon realized that Murtagh, as a Rider, was probably the only person that could help him. Damn! He decided he had to give it a try. Maybe he could convince the older youth to aid him.

When his voice was steady again, Eragon continued. "I'm not sure, though, where she is at the moment – and if she is well. We… we were attacked, you know. We were already weakened and couldn't defend us properly. We tried to fight, but… you know I was captured. Fortunately Saphira could get away, but she was badly hurt." He noticed Murtagh's attentive yet sedate expression. He had to make him understand. "She could hardly fly, there was blood everywhere. That's why I don't know about her momentary whereabouts or her condition… But I… I always thought that as a Rider you would feel if your dragon dies. And I didn't feel anything the like, but then, when I was in that cell, I don't think I would have felt-"

"Eragon," Murtagh interrupted him quickly, "Eragon, I'm sure you would know if she was dead. So we should assume that she's alive. But where did it all happen? She might not be far away from that place."

Eragon was torn. Telling Murtagh could be Saphira's death sentence. Not telling him could lead to the same. What if – even after all the time that had passed by – Saphira was still on the edge of dying and needed help? And he, Eragon, he needed his dragon. Without Saphira, an important part of him was missing, and that what was left was not really anything.

His turmoil must have shown on his face, because Murtagh shifted his position and spoke vividly. "Eragon, I won't tell anyone. I want to know, because _you_ need your dragon. And – although I know you won't believe me – I care for Saphira, too. If you tell me where you think she is, Thorn and I could go and look for her and bring her here. That's all."

Eragon could hardly believe his ears. Murtagh offered him exactly what he wanted. Did he believe him? Not really. Did he have any other choice? No. He made up his mind in an instant. "South of Du Weldenvarden, near Kirtan, there is a small mountain range. Do you know it?" When Murtagh nodded Eragon proceeded. "I'm pretty sure that she's hiding out there… if she's well."

Murtagh had gotten up and was now looking out of the window. "How long did it take you and your captors to get to Uru'baen?"

"I'm not sure actually, I was mostly in a delirium because of the thirst… maybe eleven or twelve days?"

Murtagh contemplated for a moment. "Then you have last seen Saphira about twenty days ago… Well, I just hope that she has stayed in the area. She could be pretty much everywhere by now."

It did Eragon good that Murtagh apparently did not consider death a possibility. "So, are you going to look for her?" His voice was hopeful.

"I want to, yes, but…" Murtagh turned around and looked at him "You have to cooperate. If I go and look for your dragon, you have to promise me that you will stay here and not leave this place. To be honest, I'd prefer locking you in, but the people looking after you will be an old woman and her granddaughter, and if you decide to break out, they can't stop you…"

"_I_ would not attack helpless women, those are the things you do." Eragon stared at his brother furiously.

Murtagh laughed without humour. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, little brother. I think you would do almost everything to get away from things connected to me… But I don't want to argue with you. What about my offer?"

Eragon did not have to think about this for long. "You can go and look for Saphira, I won't run." It was not like he could run away in the first place, but he did not feel like telling Murtagh… although he probably knew. Most important was to be reunited with Saphira. Once she was here, they could start making plans.

Murtagh came over and brought his face as close to Eragon's as possible, being restricted by the bed in front of his legs. "You know, I would really like to believe you…"

Eragon answered the silent challenge of trustworthiness. "Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." His voice was calm; he knew his decision was right by the feel of the oath on his tongue.

"Very well." Murtagh retreated. "I can live with that. I will go now and inform the women that I'm leaving. If you need anything – ask them. I hope to find you in a better condition on return, yet I have no idea when that will be. Take care, Eragon!"

Eragon watched Murtagh walk to the door. He noticed the determination that radiated off the dark-haired. "Good luck …Murtagh!" This was responded by a quick, hazel glance over the shoulder, which left Eragon wondering.

He was still lost in thoughts when the footsteps outside had long faded away.


	12. Privacy

**A/N: **I made up a word/name in the ancient language.

It's a chapter with almost no action… I feel really bad about that, but Eragon has to recover, and – important! – think about some things.

**Reviews:**

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole:** Hints of slash? I didn't even notice…oops. But my characters have long taken over anyway, not leaving me with too many choices. xD

**-Jack Skellington's Mistress: **I can only agree with that ;)

**-DDudeDerek: N**aah, not perfect. Perfect is a pizza with extra cheese or a day at the beach. This is just an attempt to write the first story of my life ;) Yeah, Saphira needed to come in somewhere, however, she won't play a big role… her main purpose story-wise is to give Eragon a reality check.

**-DrownedHopes:** :sniff: See bottom of the story. All good things come to an end. xD

* * *

**Privacy**

18th Harvest Moon

* * *

It took Eragon a while to realize that he was alone now, alone and free – bound only by his word. But his word was a completely different matter than the chains of his captors and the walls of his cell. It neither hurt nor restricted his breathing.

With the windows open he had been able to pick up on what was going on outside to a certain extend. He had heard Murtagh leave the estate on foot, return about an hour later and then there had been the well-known thuds of a dragon taking off. Now the quiet was only broken by chirping crickets and an occasional birdcall.

Eragon wondered about the women, of whom at least one was supposed to show up later today. Who were they? What did they know about Murtagh and what about him? Murtagh must have some sort of connection to them or they would not be coming here, and this insight really surprised Eragon, because it meant that at least Murtagh did not mistrust them. But the dark-haired mistrusted everyone!

Except him, Eragon, that was, back in their days together. Somehow this felt odd. He had always been rather proud of being so special in this regard…

Eragon reckoned that he was going through a phase of strange thoughts and decided that he could as well muse on. It was likely some after effect of the fever or the medicine.

Alright, so now Murtagh was gone and he did not exactly know if he liked it or not. That last look on the older one's face had been… disturbing. The past two days Eragon had spent almost every minute awake concentrating on his hatred for Murtagh. He was realistic enough to understand that he had done it partly to _not_ think of other things - after all, it was easy to lose oneself in anger. But why was loathing Murtagh so simple? Eragon knew many other servants of the enemy and the crimes they had committed, yet his animosity for them was of a completely different nature…

At this point he changed his decision: he did not feel like investigating his thoughts any further. These few minutes had already caused him a headache. Murtagh was gone and the house was empty until these women would show up, end of story.

Eragon sighed and looked down on the kitten that had just woken up. "But I'm not alone, I forgot. You'll stay with me, won't you? I guess I should give you a name, then." He watched the cat cleanse itself for a moment. "All I can think of right now is something in the ancient language… I hope you can understand it," he chuckled. The cat regarded the source of the strange sound for a moment before continuing with its task. "That was a 'yes', I think. Then it's decided. Your name will be Shiras, which means companion."

Was he really talking to a cat?

* * *

The next hours passed by in a haze. Lulled by the chirping and the soft, warm air, Eragon was more asleep than awake, alternately dreaming and daydreaming. Saphira never left his mind and he remembered past events and tried to imagine what seeing her again would be like.

In more conscious moments he wondered whether Murtagh and Thorn would find her and whether Saphira would let them help her. He could answer both with yes. For one thing he knew that Murtagh was an incredible tracker, finding almost anything in the wild. And Saphira was always thinking practically – she would simply consider Murtagh and Thorn tools to get better and to get back to her Rider.

Footsteps outside interrupted his dreaming and Eragon was alarmed instantaneously. Basically everyone could come here and he could not defend himself. He scanned the room and decided that the large candlestick on the table was the closest to a weapon he could find. It was about four yards away. He had to get it!

He rolled to the side of the bed and carefully slid down. When he made a tentative step with his right leg, a small scream rang through the room and Eragon swore loudly. How was he going to fight if he could not even walk? With clenched teeth and fighting dizziness he moved step by little step to the table and leaned down on it heavily when he got there. He closed his right hand forcefully around the candlestick and noticed that he was soaked in sweat. Great, Eragon Shadeslayer, really great. No one would possibly dare to attack him now, would they?

"Just what do you think you're doing there?" asked a raspy, cracked voice.

Eragon spun around and saw that it belonged to a small, old woman who stood with her walking stick in the door frame.

Now she lifted the knobby wood and pointed it at him before waving it about in the air. "I haven't seen you in a few days, but you certainly can't walk around yet," she said heatedly. "What do you want with candles in the bright daylight anyway? And why are you wearing clothes? You can't wear clothes."

* * *

Eragon smiled when he remembered what he had first thought of Jora. It was late evening now, but he could not sleep because he had been dozing so much that day. The candles in the candlestick - which was now at the bedside table - flickered in the nightly breeze. It was still unnaturally warm for the season and Eragon preferred the shutters open.

At first the woman had seemed to be an old grouch, but he had quickly learned that she was in truth a kind and skilled lady. She had made him undress and examined him closely - inspecting _every_ part of his body which had left him very uncomfortable - applied fresh bandages and left new medicine. She had said that he was making excellent progress, that in fact she could not believe he had been able to walk around at all. Eragon had wisely decided not to tell her that he had already held a sword, too.

It had turned out that Jora was not a very talkative person; however, Eragon had managed to get a few questions answered. He now knew that he was on an estate of Murtagh's family – _his family?! – _in a village called Breoch, south of Uru'baen, and that he had slept respectively been unconscious for two days after their arrival. He had also learned that the old woman used to work on the estate as a handmaid and he had sensed that she had some kind of grandmotherly feelings for Murtagh, although technically he was her lord.

Because of this he had asked her whether she thought that people changed over time, with Murtagh now being the king's top vassal and murdering people. But Jora had just shaken her head and told him that the child she had once known was still there, but maybe only people of her age were able to see through the walls that he had built around him. "Why else would he care for you so much, hardly sleep, sick with worry?" Eragon had not answered her and was glad that she had left soon after.

And then there was Rynia. She had stood in the door a moment after her grandmother had left, introduced herself shyly and talked about the potato soup she had cooked. Eragon could not remember how the soup had tasted – he had chatted away animatedly with the young woman while eating.

He understood now why it had been so easy with her: they were very much alike. Both had been born and grown up in a small, peasant village and had a similar outlook on the world. In their eyes, a thunderstorm destroying the crops was as eligible to be called 'catastrophic' as a political uproar. Eragon had been astounded to find that after all that had changed in his life, his perspective was still the same.

Then she had also started talking about Murtagh, telling him how surprised she had been that such a mighty warrior was so kind and peaceful at heart. At this point Eragon had feigned a yawn and thanked her for her company, saying he was sorry but that he needed to rest. What a pathetic excuse.

* * *

The next day did not bring any significant changes. Eragon was curious about the house, but figured it was better to wait just a bit longer with the exploration. He contented himself playing with Shiras and thinking about Saphira. Luckily it was easy to fill his head completely with thoughts of the blue dragon, as there were now quite a few things trying to push their way into his mind.

Rynia came alone that day and could not stay long, but when she saw that Eragon was bored she said that she had seen books downstairs and asked whether maybe he wanted to read something. He had eagerly agreed and she had brought him two large volumes, bound in costly leather, and a small, simply bound book. His hands came to rest on one of the big ones first and so he read thrilling tales of unknown heroes until he could not hold his eyes open any longer.

* * *

On the second day after Murtagh had departed, Eragon felt like leaving the bed for a while. He got up cautiously, grabbed the second big book and a chair and walked slowly to the balcony. The moment he was outside he knew he should have done this earlier. He put chair and book down and limped to the balustrade, relishing the sight that presented itself.

In front of him was a large, walled courtyard with a barn on the right and small estate buildings on the left. From his position on the balcony, however, he was able to see what was behind the wall: Around the south side, which the balcony was facing, corn fields were lying idle, attacked forcefully by a wide range of wild flowers. In the distance to his left Eragon could make out the village, which was partly hidden by a small hill and surrounded by neat fields. In front of the estate ran a small river and to the right and apparently everywhere behind him was forest.

Golden and yellow and the dark green of summer were still the dominant colours far and wide, yet the first spots of bright red heralded the oncoming autumn.

After drinking in as much of the beauty as possible Eragon sat down on the chair and opened the book. He noticed with frustration that it was in a language he did not know. With a grunt he got up again and limped inside, returning after a moment with the small book.

On opening it his breathing accelerated. He saw the typical, scratchy handwriting of a child and he knew instantly it was Murtagh's. Curiosity overruled all other emotions and he began to turn the pages. Murtagh's letters were so large that sometimes only six or seven words fitted on one page. Eragon guessed that he had been about nine or ten years old when he had written in this book. The content was mostly banal: The catch of a large trout - adorned with a clumsy picture of a boy with an over-dimensional fish - the death of his favourite dog, reports of sparring lessons with Tornac, and endless talk about hunting successes.

And then Eragon stumbled upon something that made him both chuckle and blush. Murtagh recounted in great detail how he had watched the cook - a woman - and the smith meet at dawn one day and without much talking have a quick fuck against the wall of the smithy. Murtagh even tried to write down the sounds that the woman seemingly had made – 'oh-oh-ah-oh' - and commented that he thought it must be very annoying for the smith to be near a woman who made such noises.

Eragon closed the book and leaned back, a smile still on his face. Murtagh. Would he ever understand the older youth? He permitted himself to reminisce about their past.

How good it had felt when the dark-haired had taken on responsibility after Brom's death; once he and Saphira had trusted him, he had guided them securely. Security. That was something he had always connected with Murtagh.

Then at Farthen Dûr he had been so worried after Murtagh had been taken prisoner and he remembered how happy he had been later, seeing that his friend was well. And finally, in the battle, having Murtagh fight alongside him had given him a warm feeling in his stomach.

When he thought about it, many things they had done together had caused this feeling…

Yet now it was all different, and it was purely Murtagh's fault. At least Eragon tried to convince himself of this, because in fact he knew better. After all, if Galbatorix knew Murtagh's and Thorn's secret names, he did not really have a choice.

Then_ why_ did he hate him so? Eragon was confused and he did not like being so in doubt about his own feelings.

One thing he knew for sure, though. Deep down he missed Murtagh. He might find another best friend one day and as family he had Roran. But there was no other Murtagh. Murtagh was… special.

Well, but what was now? Murtagh had said he was not his enemy… and there were the things that the women had told him... Eragon sighed. But how could anyone truly believe what Murtagh said? The actions mattered… yet the actions were even stronger in their meaning. Murtagh _had_ done a lot for him and he had shown that he cared…

Eragon gave up. He needed a friend to sort this out, he needed Saphira. His thoughts began to wander and he tried to imagine where she was right now and how far Thorn and Murtagh had travelled. Hopefully they would come back soon… _all three of them_.


	13. Female

**A/N:** Shaeldryn Inc. proudly presents: Saphira ... _cursive talking_ within /_forward slashes_/ is her.

**Reviews:**

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole:** Hihi, I was right. The second it gets boring I'm starting to daydream away, today I was already thinking of the sex scenes… if _anyone_ in real life could read minds, I'd die. xD

**-animeluva713: **Yep, I need to get Eragon's thoughts across somehow. But he's so stubborn… I need help… I need Saphira. ;)

**-Marcus1233: **I simply love how you think about the stuff happening in the chapters and retrace the character's actions and decisions!

**-DDudeDerek: **No, not _no _updates, just not as quick anymore. And as for the scrying… :blushes fiercely: ooops, you know what? I simply forgot about that. Gosh, how embarrassing. ok, so maybe I'll be able to squeeze it in later, otherwise, uhm, it just stays embarrassing. ;)

**-Drowned Hopes: G**ood, then I'm not so worried about being crazy. ;)

* * *

**Female**

21st Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh was crawling around on all fours, face close to the ground.

_Hey dog, _Thorn jeered, _lost your bone?_

_Shut up, Thorn.__ Finding a footprint on rocks is not as easy as standing by idly and making fun of your Rider._

_Idle, huh?_ Thorn grunted. _This is my well deserved rest. I'm pretty sure no dragon has flown this distance in so short a time ever before. And what did you do? Sit __idly__ on my back and worry and ponder about the little blond._

Murtagh grimaced. _I confess it hasn't really gotten me anywhere… look here! _He stopped crawling.

Thorn came a bit closer. _I see a black rock and next to it is a grey rock and there's some alyssum growing and…_

_Leave it! _Murtagh laughed. _Y__ou're hopeless. Another dragon has been here… not long ago. _He looked up and scanned the small valley ahead. The morning sun illuminated a few crippled trees and brambles – nothing for a dragon to hide. Still, he was sure Saphira was here somewhere. He had found many older traces of her about a mile away, but this one was new. And if she was near, she doubtlessly knew that the two of them were there… Murtagh thought he should give it a try.

"Saphira!" His yell echoed off the mountains.

_Aaaahhhh, my ears, Rider! Thanks for the advance warning._ Thorn pushed Murtagh playfully with his snout.

_Don't make a fool of yourself! _Murtagh watched the hills surrounding them closely. _Do me the favour and start using your senses, you'll probably notice her way earlier than me._

"Saphiraaa!"

_All right, I'll help you. _Having said this, Thorn lifted his head and took a very deep breath. "RRROOOOOAAAARRRRR!"

Murtagh jumped and nearly fell - Thorn had caught him completely off guard._ Uhm…Thanks. I must admit you create a bit more noise than I do._

_See?_ Thorn asked complacently.

Murtagh was trying to come up with a witty retort when they heard a reply to their shouts. He immediately climbed onto Thorn's back and they headed off towards the north, where the answering roar had come from.

When they had crossed the first mountain they saw her.

Saphira was obviously awaiting them. She stood openly on a small platform of light rock, watching them approach. Thorn landed gracefully about half a furlong away and Murtagh climbed down to make a few steps towards her. _Let me talk to her, Thorn. At least in the beginning._

_Hey, I'm a beautiful red dragon and I'm charming -_

"Saphira!" Murtagh called, "we're not here as enemies, we don't want to fight! Can I come near?" He felt a slight throb in his head when he opened his mind to let the unfamiliar presence of the blue dragon in.

_/Why would I show myself if I didn't want you near?/ _Saphira had a very pleasant alto voice.

Murtagh closed the distance between them, Thorn following at his heels. "Eragon knows I'm here, in fact he told us where to look for you… how are you?" He circled Saphira, taking in every detail. He could not detect any injuries at first glance.

_/Well enough, Rider. If you've seen Eragon, what else has he told you?/ _

"He's told me that you were… separated around twenty-three days ago, at the change of the moon. He saw you take off bloody and hurt. He… didn't know if you made it." Murtagh's compassion did not go by unnoticed by the blue dragon.

_/I'm better… what happened to Eragon?/_ Caution could wait, Saphira had to know some things _now_. /_Where is he? Is he well?/_

"Eragon… it's… he has been at the king's mercy. I only got hold of him when Galbatorix was sure he would die…" He saw Eragon again, half-dead, chained to the wall "…There wasn't really much left of him-"

Saphira growled angrily and moved towards Murtagh, causing Thorn to position himself in front of his Rider, grumbling threateningly.

"No, Thorn." Murtagh stepped in front of his dragon's head and held him back. He was now only inches away from Saphira. "First of all, he's better now!" He tried frantically to erase the picture in his head and replace it with the most recent one he had of his brother. "Only... I couldn't do anything for him in Uru'baen." Murtagh turned away and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Believe me, it has nearly broken my heart."

Saphira eyed him sceptically, but was somewhat reassured by the bruised yet alive Eragon she now perceived in Murtagh's mind. The tension faded and she retreated a step.

"We've brought him to a small village in the south and he's recovering… but I don't know whether there will be permanent damage - and I'm not talking about outer scars…" Murtagh interrupted himself and cleared his throat. "All of that can wait, though. What about you? I told Eragon I'd return with you…"

_/As I've told you, I'm well enough. But Eragon and I had fought fiercely the day before he was captured and then there was someone… powerful… I don't know./ _Confusion communicated through the connection.

'You're not the only powerful servant I have…' Galbatorix' nasty voice whispered in Murtagh's head.

_/Otherwise we could have won… and yes, I was badly injured__, or no one could have taken Eragon away!/ _Saphira added furiously._ /But when all was lost he asked me to leave…./_

Stretching out a hand to stroke the blue dragon's neck, Murtagh tried to calm her. "I know you would never abandon him. You did the right thing, else you would now be prisoner of the king, forced to do things I don't want to imagine." Saphira relaxed a bit. "But you look alright now, or am I mistaken?"

_/Yes, I am, but I'm weak. I'm not able to fly long distances without rest. __How far is it to this village?/_

"It took us three days to cross the desert and get here-" He was interrupted by Thorn with a loud dragon's cough, "but we were flying _really_ fast…" From the corner of his eye Murtagh saw his dragon pose and look very self-satisfied.

_/I guess it'll be four days for me then. __Let's go. We have a lot of talking to do, Rider, but we can as well do that on the way./ _With an inscrutable glance in Murtagh's direction, Saphira lifted off.

* * *

However, the whole day of flying went by in silence. Murtagh was relieved that Saphira was so manageable. He had tried to come up with ideas what to do if she had not complied, but he was sure that none of them would have worked.

Suddenly he was shaken and then his world turned upside down for a moment. Thorn had made a loop and was now quickly changing positions: first above Saphira, than in front, than to her right… all in a matter of seconds. Murtagh sighed. His dragon was apparently showing off. Great.

At night they made camp in the dunes, Murtagh huddling closely to Thorn for some warmth.

_/Murtagh!/_ Saphira came close and lay down next to the red dragon. /_We have some talking to do./ _

The Rider was not really surprised and straightened up. "Ask away, Saphira, but I'd like to know one thing beforehand…"

She nodded her consent.

"You are not how I thought you would be… different from the Burning Plains, different from Eragon-"

/_Different how?/_

"You have not attacked us."

Saphira chuckled. _/Why should I have done that?/_

"Because Eragon has done it… because you consider us enemies…you chose a reason." Murtagh sounded resigned.

_/I don't consider you my enemies. Well, maybe your dragon/ _she snorted_ /he's such a hormone-driven idiot.../_

Murtagh answered silently. _Idiot definitely, although personally I don't know about the hormone-driven. _Good that Thorn had not heard Saphira. "But we are not your enemy? I mean, we aren't, but why do _you_ think so?" This was going to be interesting.

_/I've seen you that way for a long time, but the last weeks have gone by slowly and I had much time to think. I know of a dragon's connection with his or her Rider… if Galbatorix threatens you with taking away Thorn's life, you don't really have a choice, do you? This does not change the fact that you've committed terrible crimes, but I've reached the conclusion that you don't want to oppose me and Eragon./ _Saphira sounded as if she had prepared this little speech.

"Uhm..." Murtagh scratched his head and for a moment he had nothing to say. "Well, you're right. With everything, I guess – my love for Thorn has turned me into a criminal… But why can't your Rider see it that way? Why does he close his eyes to the obvious?"

_/Eragon has his own personal reasons why he dislikes you and no/ _she added quickly, _/I won't tell you. I hope he will one day, although I think that even he doesn't know the true reason yet./ _Saphira fell quiet and for a while it was absolutely silent.

The absence of slow, regular breathing told Murtagh that Thorn was not sleeping as he pretended to, but the Rider did not care. "Has he ever talked about me?" Murtagh looked tense.

_/Only if it was inevitable, but I know that he thinks about you a lot, especially at night./ _Saphira saw Murtagh relax and continued._ /Why do you care so much for him?/_

"I thought that was obvious. Things haven't really changed for me – he used to be my first real friend. Now I also know that he's my brother. I feel responsible for him. And it's just… he's Eragon." He said the name tenderly.

_/Eragon?/ _Saphira imitated his tone perfectly. _/What does that mean?/_

But Murtagh did not answer and they fell quiet again.

Saphira regarded him pensively for a while. _/Do you have a girlfriend?/ _

Murtagh's head jerked up. "What?" He thought he had misunderstood.

_/Look, you grew up in Uru'baen, and now you've been living there again. A relationship is only natural, isn't it? So, do you have a girlfriend?/_

"No… I don't." Murtagh was dumbfounded.

_/A boyfriend then?/ _

"No, also no boyfriend. Why do you want to-"

_/Do you like men at all?/ _Saphira was having fun.

"Uhm, yeah, I do. Are you going to fill me in-"

_/So you don't like women?/ _She eyed him curiously.

"I like women, too, it always depends on the person, but-"

_/How is that?/_

"How is what?" Murtagh could not believe he was having this conversation with Saphira.

_/That you like men _and_ women, I haven't heard of that before./_

"Err, you know, I am what they call bisexual. I like both."

At this Thorn's eyes flew open and he raised his head, throwing quizzical glances at both his Rider and the other dragon. _Murtagh, what in fate's name are you two talking about?_

_I have no idea…_ Murtagh was truly baffled. Was he really talking with the blue dragon about his sexual preferences? This was completely personal. Some people certainly knew, but he had never actually told anyone except Thorn. So far he had simply enjoyed what life had offered him in this respect. He cleared his throat loudly. "So, now that you've pestered me with all these questions, would you mind telling what it's about?"

Saphira made a noise that resembled sniggering. _/I am a female, am I not? We're interested in these things./_

"You're a dragon!"

_/Doesn't matter. And I appreciate your frankness, Rider, it has told me a lot about you. Now I can rest well./ _Saphira closed her eyes to a still bewildered Murtagh and an even more puzzled Thorn and after a while she drifted off.

_Ahem…_Thorn gazed at his Rider who had not moved one inch.

_Don't ask, Thorn, don't ask. _Murtagh shook his head. _I can't imagine what the next days will be like. And if you're going to tell me now that you're growing pink hair on your tail – I could not be any more perplexed…._


	14. Groundwork

* * *

**Groundwork**

25th Harvest Moon

* * *

Eragon sighed. Seven days now Murtagh had been gone and he was actually missing him. He missed almost every person he knew more, but even Murtagh would be welcome to have someone to talk to. Being shadowed by a little orange fur ball did not help much.

He had spent his time mostly in bed and on the balcony reading, but had also begun to explore the house, every day a bit more. He had discovered that the rooms were richly furnished; a certain wealth was showing everywhere. Yet his most wonderful find had been a huge closet stuffed with clothes – now he was dressed decently once again.

Physically he got better and better each day. The bruises on his skin were fading, most were already gone. More important for him, though, was that he was regaining strength. It was still ridiculous compared to normal, healthy people, but at least he could walk around. First five minutes, then ten – at the moment he was fit enough for a quarter hour. Although 'walking' was not the right word - due to his splinted leg he could only hobble.

Rynia came by daily and he was always looking forward to her visits, but it was harvest time and she was needed at home and never stayed long. Jora had also been there another time and had decided - much to her patient's relieve - that most bandages could come off.

Now he was sitting on the bed and stared blankly at the door, wishing for anything to happen.

* * *

_Murtagh, calm down._ Thorn was mildly irritated.

"I can't help it, we're almost there…" Murtagh had a clump in his stomach and told himself he was being a fool.

_He's just your baby brother, no reason to be all fidgety._

"You know very well that we don't have the usual brotherly love thing going on."

Saphira jumped in. /_But are you sure you would want that?/ _

Murtagh ignored her. She had made many such comments over the past days and he had decided early on that he had already told her more than enough. He knew that he did not exactly have brotherly feelings towards Eragon, but it scared him that Saphira had noticed it so easily.

However, deep inside he was ecstatic. She knew _something_ was going on with his feelings and she did not disapprove. Still, he dreaded the future. They had gotten along well on their travel and Murtagh and Saphira had agreed to do all it would take to get Eragon well again. Yet he had no idea how she would react if she found out that he wished to attach himself closer to the blond, that he did not intend to let him go – although it had nothing to do with imprisonment.

_/Is this it?/ _Eagerness and happy anticipation was radiating off the blue dragon.

Murtagh's eyes followed the stream below and came to rest on the silhouette of the mansion, which was about a mile away. "Yes, this is it."

Saphira mobilized her last reserves and sped up.

_No, Thorn. She'll go first. _Murtagh was firm and with great reluctance Thorn gave up the chase he had just begun. _And we'll land outside, so they can have some time to themselves._

_T__his is your house, why do _we_ have to stay away?_

_We'll not discuss this. And I won't force Eragon to leave the house if he wants to greet her privately. _

Thorn knew when to stop objecting and landed without another word on the bank of the small river, watching Saphira do the same within the estate.

* * *

_/Eragon!/_

Eragon woke with a start from his latest daydream about his dragon. Was he imagining things? He reached out hesitantly with his mind. _Saphira?_

_/Eragon. I'm coming./ _Saphira was jubilant.

Utmost happiness showed on Eragon's face when he hurried to the balcony. His dragon landed in the courtyard the moment he stepped outside. They looked each other into their eyes for what seemed like eternity.

_/Eragon./_

_Saphira._

Both their voices were full of tenderness. An endless stream of pictures and thoughts rushed between them. Not so much of recent events but mainly of past experiences and of their deep affection for each other.

_You're here._ It was a statement full of relief.

_/And I'll never leave you again, little one!/ _Saphira said resolutely and stepped close to the balcony, her head meeting Eragon's hand. Then Eragon leaned forward and embraced as much of his dragon as was possible in this awkward position.

Suddenly the kitten appeared on the balcony, looking for its source of warmth and cuddling hands. It jumped on the balustrade and strode towards Eragon, who was just releasing his hold on Saphira.

_/Oh, you've got a welcome snack for me?/ _Saphira began to chuckle. _/Well, I must say that it's a bit lean, but after all, it's the thought that matters./_

Eragon laughed out loud, his clear voice carrying far in the open air. The cat was startled; it had not heard the human make this noise ever before. _No, _he was able to say after a while, still laughing quietly. _No, it's not a snack. This little creature has been a faithful companion to me for the past week – although one a bit too quiet for my taste. _He stroked the cat's head, triggering the familiar purr.

_/And my mouth has just begun to water…/ _Saphira pouted in mock disappointment.

Then she looked around curiously. _/So this is how Uru'baen's nobility spends its time whenever the stench in the city insults their precious noses too much… Pretty. I think I can get used to that./_

Eragon stopped petting the kitten and furrowed his brow. _Why do you say that?_

The blue dragon was slightly bewildered. _/Look at you, Eragon, where do you want to go like this?/_

_Well, honestly, I haven't thought about it yet, but I can recover as well when I'm not on enemy territory anymore. _

Saphira gave him a sharp look. _/We can't leave right now, Eragon./_

_Of course we can. We'll figure out a way to distract Thorn and… him… and then we're gone._

_/No, Eragon, this is not about Thorn and Murtagh hindering us. Galbatorix only let Murtagh take you away because he thought you would die or at least be a complete cripple. If word gets out that we're together again and travel around all hell will be loose./_

_So what? I can't stay here with __him_. Eragon was talking himself into a rage. _I'd rather fight the king's army alone than be stuck here. To be honest, I'm a bit afraid of what he'll do once I'm fit again._

Saphira looked at Eragon confusedly. _/Why are you so upset? And I really don't want to quarrel with you today of all days. There are a few things we need to discuss, but I don't want to do it like this./ _She brought her head very close to Eragon once again, golden eyes glistening.

Eragon looked at her and slowly his anger ebbed away. _I'm sorry. You're right, I don't want to argue with you, either. Somehow it always makes me furious to think about him._

_/You've just demonstrated that very clearly. So, let's start by not calling him 'him', he's got a name. Murtagh. Plain and simple. And I think there is another reason besides your physical state why we should stay here. Stay until you're fully recovered. Stay until we've found a way to communicate with the Varden to decide about further steps./ _Saphira saw that Eragon was still on the edge of flipping out. She needed to do this cautiously.

_And what would that reason be?_

_/Murtagh. He cares for you, Eragon./ _Saphira noted the effect her words had on her Rider and quickly continued._ /He will do all he can to prevent you from harm and help you get better./ _

_Saphira! Listen to what you're saying. _Eragon could not and would not believe his ears. _Has he brainwashed you or anything? Drugged? Threatened? We're talking about our enemy…._

_/With all due respect, little one, but you're not being objective anymore. Look at the facts. Look what he's done for you. Although he's not talking about it, I'm pretty sure he knows that he's put himself in considerable danger taking you away from the king. And then I had expected to find you in a much worse condition, but you're not, because of what he had arranged for you. Moreover__, he went all the way looking for me, trusting your word, although he knows you don't trust him. Do you want to hear more?/_

Eragon had sat down on the balcony, back leaning against the wall, head in his hands. _No, I don't, that was quite a lecture. I guess you have prepared this beforehand?_

_/Yes, I have, because there's one thing I want you to understand, Eragon. One thing crucial to your recovery… inside./_

_What, Saphira? _An annoyed Eragon looked up at his dragon.

Saphira tried to make her voice as gentle as she could. _/You need another person, little one. A human. You need Murtagh to get better. And he's there for you, ready to comfort you and help you out with his experience. But you're driving him away./ _She saw Eragon flinch at that. _/He's not your enemy, give him a chance. I know you miss him, miss the special relationship you two had. Those are things that I can't offer. I know how hard this must be for you, because Eragon…?/_

_Hmm?_ He did not want to hear anymore what she had to say.

_/You know why you hate him so much right now, don't you?/ _Eragon did not react and Saphira continued with caution. _/I think you flee into that hatred, little one, so that you don't have to think about other things. If you gave up your animosity, you could not postpone dealing with recent events any longer. But, Eragon, you can't run away from it forever…./_

Defeat was showing in Eragon's eyes; he was crestfallen to hear her say what he had already pondered about secretly. _What do you want me to do?_

_/First of all I want to know if you agree with me./_

_I don't know, Saphira… I really don't want to brood over this at the moment. Can't you just tell me what to do?_

_/I can, but you'll have to confront your feelings soon, little one, or it'll harm you more and more./ _Saphira had not exactly gotten what she wanted, but it was better than nothing. _/As for a course of action, how about thanking him?/_

_Thanking him for what? _Eragon was irritated again.

_/For all that he's done so far. And also for right now, because in case you haven't noticed, he's outside of the estate currently, granting us privacy. Yet I know for a fact that he's half starved and longs for the kitchen. And then _talk_ to him, Eragon, it doesn't matter about what, but I want you to talk./_

Eragon slowly got up and sighed. _I… I don't want to do this, Saphira. I can't._

_/Yes, you can. I know you, little one. You don't _want_ to talk to him, right? No, don't say anything. Do it for me./_

Eragon knew who of them usually had the last word. He could as well give up._ Then I'll do it for you. Tell him… Murtagh… that he can come in._


	15. Selfcontrol

**Reviews:**

**-animeluva713:** Thanks, you make me feel a lot better about the whole POV thing. I'm not too excited about doing it this way, but still a far too inexperienced writer to do it differently.

**-DrownedHopes:** Holy guacamole. Well, here's the thing: I have to fight with myself daily to _not_ have them up a wall or something, I'd so love to do that. In the very beginning, before I even wrote the first word, I was more on a oneshot trip, you know, smut with a little plot ;) But then all this came along and now I can't rush it for the reason you mentioned, although I'd often like to. And yes, they really need to see the obvious. But: I'm getting there. Yesterday a good friend caught me in class: "You're again thinking of that story. What scene this time?" And I was like: "The first kiss, I really need to get there, it's driving me crazy." And that's so true. 'Cause before they can do the _really_hot stuff :winks: they have to start kissing (at least in this fic) :) But as I said before, I'm working on it. (Hihi. Longest review – longest reply xD)

* * *

**Self-control**

25th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh paced up and down the riverbank. His stomach was rumbling and thus contributing to his general discomfort. Eragon was certainly up and walking around by now and the dark Rider could only stand so much of his brother's attitude.

All the past months he had missed him, wanted him near, but now he wished that Galbatorix had never gotten hold of him so he would not be in the current situation. He would rather have Eragon far away, imagining that the other Rider missed him as well, than having him here like this. There had been a time when he would have been strong enough to cope with it. But after having held his younger brother in his arms, feeling his heartbeat and sensing the soft hair on his cheek, he had begun to realize that he could not bear the hatred anymore. The person Murtagh cared for most was miserable and would not let him near. It just tore him apart.

_Murtagh. _Thorn was rolling around in the sand with pleasure. _The lady wants to talk to you…_

Murtagh stopped being sorry for himself and listened to Saphira, who told him that he could come near.

Alright, he thought determinedly, you can face Galbatorix – you can also face your brother! He turned his steps towards the house.

When he entered the courtyard he saw Saphira in front of the balcony, not paying any attention to him. His eyes moved further… and there he was. Eragon stood on the balcony, unmoving, only his hair was rippling in the upcoming wind. He stared down at Murtagh, expression blank, then suddenly turned around and limped inside. Murtagh realized that in this short moment he had been paralyzed and had been gaping at his brother, so he shook himself back to life. He quickly headed for the front door and then went directly to the kitchen.

The image of Eragon did not leave his head. He had only seen him for a few seconds and not up close, but it was nothing he would forget easily. Eragon had looked a lot better. In fact, he had looked too good and Murtagh had not been prepared for it. He had only wanted to check on the condition of his brother – but he had seen something entirely different. Eragon must have found clothes somewhere and had dressed himself in a plain blue shirt and through the balustrade Murtagh had glimpsed rather tight light brown leather pants. The midday sun had made his brother's blond mane shine golden.

This appearance combined with the absence of both bruises and the well-known hostile look on Eragon's face had had an overwhelming effect on Murtagh, whose breathing was only slowly returning to normal.

He knew what was going on, knew himself well enough. And that made him furious. Furious, because out there in the courtyard he had not seen his brother who had been raped and abused only two weeks ago. He had seen the handsome young man that Eragon was. A man that he longed for, that he wanted to hold and kiss and make love to, someone he desired more than anyone before in his life.

Murtagh kicked his left foot with force against a kitchen cabinet, wanting to hurt himself as a punishment. It worked just fine. "Damn!" This was so wrong. He could not let his mind wander that way, although he already knew that no one else besides Eragon would ever hold this attraction for him again. He needed his self-restraint back, else dealing with his brother would be nearly impossible. Why had he even admitted to himself in that fateful night that he felt more for the younger one than he probably should? Otherwise he would never look at him the way he just had.

Murtagh dug out some bread, cheese and cold meat and a large jug of wine and began eating ravenously. He decided that visiting Eragon had to wait until he would be his normal controlled self again. Right now it was impossible, the temptation was just too much.

Again he kicked his foot against the kitchen cabinet, again asking for the pain and again swearing aloud.

"Murtagh. What are you doing?"

Oh no. All wrong. Eragon had evidently chosen not to wait for him to come upstairs.

* * *

Eragon stood in the doorway and was not quite sure what to make of the scene in front of him.

He had heard a loud bang and a curse when he was still fighting his way downstairs and now he knew where it had come from. Murtagh stood in the middle of the room, looking uncomfortable, ignoring him. The dark-haired concentrated on the food in front of him and started gulping chunks of it down. "Eragon," he mumbled a greeting between two bites.

Eragon moved a bit closer, bringing himself in Murtagh's line of sight. At least that was where he would be if the older one looked up.

Murtagh was obviously hungry, but there was more. Eragon detected dirt on the usually spotless black clothes and dark rings under what he knew were hazel eyes. He remembered what he had promised Saphira. "You…brought my dragon here. Otherwise she would not have found me for probably a very long time." The next words were a torture. "I… I want to thank you for that."

Murtagh looked up very briefly before lowering his eyes again – long enough for Eragon to detect some dilemma in their depths. "You're welcome."

That was definitely not the cold voice Eragon had expected and his natural curiosity made itself heard. It became rather easy to continue talking. "I also want to thank you for healing me and asking Jora and Rynia to look after me."

Murtagh clenched his hands around the tabletop of the kitchen table, his posture tense.

Eragon was so fascinated by these reactions, he nearly forgot that he hated what he was saying. His voice was almost his old, carefree one. "I'm really a lot better now. I'm healing faster than what would be normal, are you involved in that, too?" He watched how Murtagh's knuckles turned white. "And it was very kind of you to get me away from the city, too," Eragon added experimentally, hearing Murtagh breathe labouredly. _What _was going on here?

Suddenly the older one looked up, his face a strange grimace. "I'm glad you finally found your manners, Eragon. I did what I had to do for my _brother…_," he emphasized the word strangely, "…and I'm not yet regretting it…," he sounded the absolute opposite, "…so do not change that! I accept your thanks, but I'm tired, so would you please leave me alone?" Murtagh's eyes were begging.

Something he was doing caused Murtagh great discomfort, if not pain, and Eragon was perversely enjoying the situation. He did not spend a single thought on leaving. "Oh, no, I can't, see?" He made himself sound playfully on purpose. "Saphira, whose mind you have twisted so successfully, told me that I should talk to you and here I-"

"Eragon!" Murtagh stormed towards the younger one furiously, stopping only an inch in front of him. Eragon shrank involuntarily, so that now Murtagh towered over him although they were of the same height. "You! Leave! Now!" Murtagh yelled, having lost complete control over his voice.

Eragon's provocative mood had evaporated in an instant as a flood of pictures was assailing him. He thought he felt another presence up close, a huge man, yelling, stinking and dirty. Pushing something up his opening from behind. Grabbing his cock and pinching it forcefully. Pain. Fear. Anxiety. Eragon whimpered. He raised his hands between Murtagh's and his own face, trying to shield himself. His lips trembled.

Murtagh was appalled. He stumbled backwards a few steps, face going white, watching Eragon sink down at the wall, shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

"Oh, no," Murtagh whispered, "no, Eragon, no." He was shaking as uncontrollably as his brother. He stretched out a hand as if to touch Eragon's shoulder, but stopped before making contact with it.

Eragon stared at him, stricken with fear, tears wetting his cheeks. He saw Murtagh's hand move again, closing the distance. The moment he was being touched, Eragon remembered a second man approaching, reaching out for his shoulder to turn and position him, laughing nastily. He screamed.

Murtagh jumped back aghast, heart pumping in his chest. Then he turned around and ran.

After a moment Eragon heard the front door slam shut.

His silent sobs became audible ones and the tears blurred his vision. He felt unprotected down here in the kitchen and slowly got up, feeling his way to the door and awkwardly limping up the stairs. When he arrived in his room he threw himself on the bed, crying, choking and trembling frantically.

After a couple of minutes he had himself somewhat under control again, the haze around him lifting. He probed his mind and found Saphira close-by, hunting in the forest. She had not yet noticed what had happened and he wanted it to stay that way. He was deeply embarrassed and humiliated and could not share these experiences with her now, reliving them once more. Instead, he concentrated on his surroundings. He heard cracking noises outside, sounds of fists bashing into wood. The bed beneath him was soft and held a now familiar smell for him. He closed his eyes and the regularity of the blows slowly lulled him into a light doze.

Some time later Eragon was consciously back in his room and wondered why. It took him a while to realize that the noise outside had stopped. All was quiet. Quiet as it had been in the cell when the men had left in the middle of the night, getting more to drink, telling him beforehand that they would be back soon. Saying they had only just warmed up.

Eragon pressed the pillow over his head, attempting to mute the sounds, which was of course impossible as they were solely in his head. He was shaking again, and now he was also cold. Yet he was incapable of moving and cut not pull the blanket over himself.

The stairs were creaking outside and shortly after, there was a quiet knock on his door. Eragon did not react to it and made a rather unsuccessful effort to stifle the sounds _he_ was producing, at the same time noticing that the door was opened and then shut again. He heard quiet, hesitant footsteps somewhere at the foot of the bed and then to his left. Murtagh must be seating himself on one of the chairs – trying to make no unnecessary noise and seemingly with no intention to speak. The younger one stayed with his head under the pillow self-consciously. He was not able to put up with anything Murtagh right now.

Eragon was mentally worn out and got more and more tired – the only thing that kept him from sleeping was the cold creeping up his legs to his stomach and further. However, he was too weary and not awake enough anymore to change that. And he simply did not care.

When he had drifted away even more he was vaguely aware that someone crawled into the bed next to him. He was embraced closely but tenderly from behind and the blankets were pulled up to cover both of them. All he really perceived at that moment was that the person helped him fight the cold. Slowly he stopped shivering and relaxed, melting into the hug and savouring the warmth. And finally he could surrender to sleep.

In spite of the day's events he rested peacefully that night, no nightmares disturbing his slumber.


	16. Echo

**A/N:** Odd chapter, really odd. First my two little protagonists were in such a fluffy mood and then suddenly…I don't know, they have to learn how to deal with each other or they'll drive me crazy. I think from now on I'll write with a little digital club in my hand, and I hit them with it whenever they want to do anything stupid. Okay, scratch the 'little', I'll take a huge one.

**Reviews:** :bows in all directions: Thank you, thank you, thank you. Reviews are better than chocolate!

**-Coco Reed: **I'm glad you like the story. As for OOC or not OOC… I'm not really thinking about it. I have a certain image of both Eragon and Murtagh in my head and I'm trying to stick to that. But as this is a slash story the characters can't really match the canon. Let's see how it turns out, because I'm certainly finishing this. The last line was written on the first day I started my fic. :)

* * *

**Echo**

26th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh was waking up only reluctantly. He was very comfortable and in his half-awake state he credited it to some nice dream he must have had. Therefore he really did not want to wake up at all.

Suddenly a body moved against his. His left arm, which was slung around the other's waist, automatically pulled him closer.

Bit by bit he realized where he was and whom he was holding. His eyes snapped open and he stiffened, but when he noticed that Eragon was still fast asleep he calmed down again. He moved on the pillow a little, getting closer to the younger one's head, and closed his eyes again. He wanted to enjoy the moment a little before mulling over what it meant.

He could smell Eragon very distinctively and took in the earthy, summery scent with deep breaths. How could _anyone_ possibly smell so good? And the body he had pulled close was warm and flexible, moulding into his own shape perfectly. Murtagh did all he could to memorize the moment. He checked on himself briefly, noting that he was in complete control of his body. Good. Yesterday's events had restricted his desires, although he had never held anyone that felt so good or that he had been so fond of. But at the moment he could simply enjoy his brother's closeness without running the risk of giving in to his needs.

He was both joyful and melancholy. This felt so right and he did not want it to end. Then again he knew he should not raise his hopes. In the best of cases, Eragon would trust him again and maybe develop some brotherly feelings. Anything beyond that was as likely as Galbatorix resigning and asking for forgiveness.

Murtagh sighed. He would have to be satisfied with what he could get. And you never knew – perhaps other circumstances requiring him to warm Eragon would arise in the future. Maybe one day he should ask Eragon to go on a hiking trip with him, high up in the mountains, where they would need each other's warmth at their night-time camp. Murtagh grinned. Such thoughts he had last had long before adulthood, fancying a red-haired at the king's court, making up all kinds of stupid scenarios how they could be close.

Eragon moved a little and his hip came to rest on Murtagh's right hand. Murtagh drew in his breath. That hurt – _badly._ It was the hand he had punched against the barn door yesterday until it had started to bleed. He had yanked out the splinters afterwards and cleaned it a bit but had not healed it. He wanted it as a reminder to contain himself around Eragon. He opened his eyes again and looked at the blond mane that was so close. The hair had grown a bit and was curling slightly all over the place. Murtagh admitted to himself that he liked it this way a lot, but probably Eragon would cut it back to his old style.

Actually his brother had not trimmed any of his hair lately and a thin, fair fluff was growing on his face. Murtagh could not see it right now but remembered it clearly from yesterday. Another grin spread on his face. He knew that if he had not shaved for so long, he would look a real outlaw. Eragon, however, had apparently a beard growth like a youth. Still, he wondered why the younger one had not shaved and made a mental note to ask him later.

Gradually a quiet trickling sound entered through the open windows and Murtagh shifted his head a little to look outside in astonishment. It was raining. The whole country had waited for this for so long, but summer had not let it out of its grip. Now things were changing.

Little by little he became aware that Eragon's breathing was not so deep and steady anymore and Murtagh went rigid. Seemingly his brother was awake and had been for he knew not how long. Clumsily he lifted his arm off Eragon and shifted to the side of the bed. With one quick motion he grabbed his boots, put them on and left the bed. If Eragon found out that he was extending the contact on purpose… adieu hiking trip.

* * *

Ohh… Eragon's mind held only this one sound of regret. Murtagh had presumably decided that he needed his warmth no more… Eragon wished he was freezing again.

He had woken a little while ago and immediately felt that Murtagh had been right there with him. He had not dared to open his eyes and had instead concentrated on the touch of the arm around his waist and the torso behind his back. He could not remember when he had last been so close with any person – it had probably been on some day in his childhood. Was this was Saphira had meant yesterday? Things she could not offer? Eragon was not sure. What he knew was that he had felt safe and secure upon awakening. Somehow he had belonged there, his body had fitted so well into Murtagh's. Only when the older one had broken contact had he even begun thinking about what was going on. He was confused.

Murtagh had helped him get warm and fall asleep last night, true. But Murtagh was… Murtagh. Could he accept what the older one had done or should he jump out of bed now and yell at him? No, definitely no jumping, Eragon corrected himself quickly. If he did that, he might lose the feel of the other man that was still lingering on his body. And he liked this feel, wanted it to last…

Eragon figured that he really longed for another person's presence or else Murtagh up close would make him sick. Yet he wasn't, instead he wished the other one back…Was that alright? Stop musing, he told himself firmly, and wake up officially now.

He opened his eyes and yawned clearly, then twisted around in the bed. Finally he sat up - and saw that his little pretence had been for nothing. Murtagh was on the balcony, his back to the room.

Eragon was so at ease that he had no trouble starting a conversation. "Good morning!"

Murtagh turned around and gave him a crooked smile, rain dripping from his hair. "Hey, look!" He sounded lively. "It's raining at last."

Eragon could not help but return the smile. "And you like getting soaked?"

"No." Murtagh laughed quietly and came back inside, a puddle of water forming around him. "Not really, but I guess it was good for a change. The weather has been so odd lately – it's almost hunting moon and until yesterday we still had summer." He wiped away the dark wet strands that constantly fell into his eyes.

The little gesture caught Eragon's entire attention and only when he noticed that Murtagh saw him staring did he look away quickly. "Well, then, I hope Saphira has found a dry place," he said hastily. "She doesn't fancy rain."

"Don't worry, she's fine." Murtagh went for the door, passing by Eragon who was getting out of bed. "She's in that barn out there – with the hormone-driven idiot."

Eragon gawked at him. "_What_ do you call Thorn?"

Murtagh chuckled and opened the door. "_I _call him Thorn. Saphira came up with the other name… Do you want to come down with me to find something to eat?"

Eragon thought that he wanted just that. "Sure, I'll be down there in a moment, I'm not too fast right now."

To his surprise, Murtagh waited for him and matched his pace on the stairs. "Does your leg hurt when you walk?"

"Not much anymore, it's better these days. Can't wait, though, till I can run again. My pace is what's bothering me most at the moment." They reached the kitchen and Eragon sat down at the table while Murtagh rummaged through the cupboards. After having found some food he placed it in the middle of the table and sat down on the far side of Eragon.

They started eating silently and slowly grew uncomfortable. Both remembered yesterday's scene that had taken place right here. It was Murtagh who finally broke the laden silence. "I was wondering… why are you growing a beard?"

Eragon returned from the gloom that occupied his mind and tentatively touched his cheeks. "Oh, it's really noticeable by now, isn't it? I'm not growing a beard… I just couldn't find any sharp knife around here to get rid of it."

Murtagh looked at Eragon closely. "I didn't see any hair when you were in … Uru'baen." At the last word he waved his hand dismissingly and went on, suppressed humour now sparkling in his eyes. "So your 'beard' has grown for almost two weeks … I would not call it noticeable, you know. But anyhow, you can have my knife."

"Thanks." Eragon did not know what was so funny and looked away from Murtagh, focusing on his hands. Then his eyes wandered and came to rest on Murtagh's hands and he produced a small gasp. "Your right hand… I heard something in the courtyard the other day… why didn't you heal it?"

Murtagh scowled, beard forgotten. "I do not want the pain to stop. I want it to hurt whenever I touch something. It helps me to remember to… keep myself in check." He paused and swallowed. Then he looked his brother in the eye. "I… yesterday…I lost it-"

"No, no, it's alright," Eragon broke in, "don't-"

"What?" Murtagh leaned towards Eragon on the table. He was confused. "No, it's not alright."

"I do not want to talk about it," Eragon decided.

Murtagh shook his head irately. "Eragon, we can't ignore it. The way I acted triggered-"

"Just leave it!" Eragon shot back angrily. A bit abashed he added: "Because I… I provoked you…"

"You did what?" Murtagh grew cold and his voice turned sarcastic. "Why? If you want to remember, just tell me, I'll help you recreate your memories."

"No!" Eragon got half-way up from his chair, closing the distance between him and Murtagh over the table. "I don't _ever_ want to remember. I didn't know I would connect you like that to what's happened."

Murtagh was even paler now than usually and his voice dropped to a furious whisper. "Then why did you provoke me?"

"I don't know!" In contrast to his brother, Eragon was almost yelling. "I saw that what I said made you mad so I pushed it and-"

Murtagh jumped up and kicked his chair back. "Fine!" he hollered. "Fine! I guess I'm glad that hurting me hurt you, too, then."

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard.

Then Eragon got up as well and with as much dignity as he could muster he limped past Murtagh towards the hallway. "I've lost my appetite. I'm going to visit my dragon."

"Run away!" Murtagh called after him. "Resolving matters is never a good thing, right?" When he heard the front door close he knocked over the table as well.


	17. Pie

**A/N: **There's a mean anticlimax at the end of this chapter, so my advice is: read on, it will be worth it!

**Reviews:**

**-animeluva713: **It was too harmonious after so short a time and thus unrealistic, because they had not done anything on purpose to change their relationship, it was more of an incident. But if they fight again, they have to deal with it. And if that turns out well, getting along is far more realistic, I think.

**-Coco Reed:** I totally agree with you!

**-hogo-chan:** I didn't say 'better', I said I can't wait xD and you'll see why (next chapter, see above). As for updating so fast… Well, this story has to be written right now, it does not let me rest. Although that means that all I do at the moment is study, write this fic, and sleep (only half the hours I would actually need). It's a bit pathetic… but once this is finished, I can live again ;) Hmm, but do I want this to end? Noooo…

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole:** Oh, not good. Don't hate the little blond. He's just been screwed too badly. :'(

**-Marcus1233**: Apparently you're having a lot of fun reading this. Makes me very very happy!

* * *

**Pie**

26th Harvest Moon

* * *

Eragon stomped through the rain over the courtyard and into the barn, encountering two attentive dragons. He saw Saphira exchange a lengthy look with Thorn and the red dragon got up somewhat grudgingly and walked outside, spread his wings, and lifted off.

_/Hey, little one. Are you... angry?/ _Saphira was not alarmed.

Eragon marched up and down in front of her, ignoring the growing pain in his leg. _Angry? How could you possibly have guessed that? I can't believe I'm related to such a callous, cold-hearted and stubborn person!_

_/If I were you, the stubbornness would not exactly be a revelation…./_

_Excuse me? _Eragon directed his fury at his dragon._ This is _not _funny. Murtagh is horrible._

Saphira did her best to look apologetic. _/No, it's not funny, I'm sorry. It's only that it doesn't surprise me. Sooner or later the two of you would clash – and you will again in the future./_

_Why?_ Sometimes Saphira's 'I know it all, nothing surprises me' attitude was really annoying.

_/Because you just said he's a pighead – and _I_ say it runs in the family. And as you two have so many opposing views, it's only a matter of time till you're in a situation where none of you is willing to back down./_

_Saphira, do me the favour and leave the term family out, will you?_

The blue dragon chortled. _/But, Eragon, you've just said something very similar./_

_What? I didn't… I… did. Damn! _Eragon was near the barn door and halted at a wooden pier. Without much thinking he punched it forcefully with his left fist. It hurt - and that was good.

Saphira rolled her eyes. _/Oh no, not you, too. Here we have another similarity./_

Eragon stopped and looked at the wood. There were already clear punch marks on it and some dried blood. He groaned. Not even when absent did Murtagh leave him alone. He lowered his hand.

_/Done with going berserk, little one?/ _

Eragon nodded.

_/Then come over and sit down, your leg needs to rest. And then we'll talk./_

Eragon did as she had told him to, sat down next to his dragon and leaned against her. As always, the contact soothed him immediately.

_/Let me guess… I know that _you _have also expected to argue with him sooner or later, so your severe reaction does not fit. I think it means that the quarrel has caught you by surprise… and that implies you got along better beforehand. Am I right?/ _It was not really a question, she knew her Rider too well.

Eragon exhaled noisily. _Yes… actually the day has started good. I talked to him – as a certain someone had ordered me to do. _He briefly grinned at Saphira before turning serious again. _And it was… easy… and good, I guess. I don't know _why_ that was, but somehow your task was not difficult. Until now, that is._

_/But you've already spoken to him yesterday, right? What happened there?/ _Saphira had a feeling that this was sensitive terrain.

_It was completely different… not nice. __I'm sorry, but I really don't want to talk about it. The… conversation Murtagh and I had the other day was rather unpleasant. It made me remember things. _Eragon stared blankly at some piece of straw on the floor.

_/That's all right, little one./ _Saphira had no intention to push him. He would tell her when he was ready._ /However, I know Murtagh spend the night in your room. And I know you were well when you woke up./ _She pierced Eragon with a long glance.

The blond was embarrassed – it was odd having someone talk about it._ Uhm, yes, he was there, but not as you might think! I didn't ask him to - I would never do that!_ He would not tell his dragon that Murtagh had slept in the bed with him. And he would definitely _not_ let her know how good that had felt. Hopefully she was not already aware of that._ However, strange at it is - and it is _very_ strange – you're right. This morning was really good. I thought I was beginning to understand what you meant yesterday. Although of course that has changed now._

Saphira heaved a big dragon's sigh. _/Eragon, forget for a moment what has just happened. It was simply an outburst of fury on both parts. I think it is this morning that matters. Listen to yourself, little one. You're mad at him – but you are not talking about hatred anymore. That is something very positive. As for why that is… you know what they say?/_

Eragon still pondered about the hatred issue and needed a second to react. _No, what do they say?_

_/I've heard this a few times and I think there is a lot of truth in it. They say that if you sleep with someone – no/ _Saphira chuckled, /_I mean in fact the act of sleeping with eyes closed, snoring and so on – they say that you connect with the other person, because it is still a very intimate thing to do. I don't know, maybe the dreams drift over from one mind to the other and that creates a certain bond./_

Eragon thought about this for a long time. _Maybe… well, maybe you're right. There _was _a connection this morning, we got alongwell for a short while._

Saphira was satisfied. _/That's why I shared this little piece of wisdom with you, because what you've told me made me remember it./_

Her Rider was quiet, lost deep in thought. He was listening to the rain on the roof and recalled how Murtagh had stood unmoving in the wet on the balcony. Murtagh had enjoyed it – and Eragon had enjoyed watching him.

_Saphira…_ His dragon fixed her golden gaze upon him. _Yesterday… and also today… I haven't been too nice to him. Maybe I should apologize…._

Saphira's eyes widened in astonishment. _/Of course, that would be a fabulous thing to do./ _They also say that you have to strike while the iron is hot.

Eragon knew he had to act quickly before he would change his mind. _Thank you, beautiful one._ He smiled lovingly at his dragon._ I know you sometimes need a lot of patience with me. _

_/I did not expect you to ever admit that./ _Saphira's voice was soft, belying her mocking words. _/But, I feel really bad… Murtagh is not here anymore./_

_What? Where is he? _Eragon stopped in midair before dropping to the ground again.

_/He's left the estate, probably heading for the village. He was stomping even more vehemently than you did, that's why I heard him./_

_Oh. Well, I guess, I'll stay here with you then and wait. Is that fine with you?_

_/Silly - I love having you around./ _Saphira nudged Eragon gently and he smiled.

_And I love being around you!_

* * *

It was early evening when Saphira was suddenly heedful. _/Murtagh is coming back. I'll go on a little flight./_

_Saphira, wait! _Eragon jumped up from the bale of straw he had been sitting on. _Don't leave. What am I supposed to do?_

_/Perhaps talk to him as you've said earlier? You two should do that with no dragon around. See you later, little one./ _Saphira was out of the barn before Eragon could respond.

Anxiously he stared at the door where his dragon had just disappeared. It was still pouring with rain outside and the light was fading quickly now. It was so unpleasant that the mere sight made Eragon shiver involuntarily. Without warning, Murtagh stood in the doorway all of a sudden, drenched with rain. Yet he made no move to come inside. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and avoided Eragon's eyes.

Suddenly both of them began to speak at the same time.

"What I said earlier, I didn't mean-"

"It wasn't right what I said this morn-"

They stopped and made eye contact, then Murtagh motioned Eragon to go first. The blond inhaled deeply once. "Murtagh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone up the wall like that."

"I'm sorry, too, Eragon. I lost my temper."

They exchanged a shy smile and the suspense tickled away. Eragon pointed at the bale next to him. "Why don't you leave the rain and sit here with me?"

Murtagh stepped inside swiftly and they both sat down, each on one edge of the bale. Murtagh was carrying a bag that he put down on the floor. For a while they were quiet, no one really knew what to say after the tough part had been removed from both their agendas. Then Murtagh slid over a bit to sit more comfortably. "What did you do today?"

Eragon shrugged. "Nothing, really. Talked to Saphira. What did _you_ do?" He eyed the bag curiously.

"This and that. Want to know what I've bought?" Murtagh swung the bag temptingly. When Eragon nodded, he opened it and a sweet smell escaped. Murtagh grabbed the object in question and held it towards his brother with a grin.

"Apple pie?" Eragon asked incredulously.

"You don't like it?" Murtagh's grin vanished and his eyes saddened.

"No, no," Eragon hurried to say, "I love apple pie, I really do!"

"Take it, it's for you."

"The whole pie?" Eragon was sceptical. "What about you?"

"Don't worry." Murtagh's little smile had reappeared. "I've got another one right here. I hope they taste as delicious as they smell."

"They do," Eragon managed to report with his mouth full a few moments later. He swallowed and added: "That was a good idea."

Murtagh had taken a huge bite and could only nod his agreement to both. The next minutes passed by in a silence that was for once companionable.

After he had licked the stickiness off his fingers, Eragon watched the older one. "Aren't you cold, wet as you are?"

"A bit… But we should go over to the house anyhow, a big red someone is telling me that he doesn't want to be out in the rain any longer."

Eragon agreed with a long yawn. "Aaaall right."

They hastened over the courtyard and into the house. At the bottom of the stairs Eragon hesitated. "I… I think I'll go to bed. I don't know why, but I'm tired and my head hurts a bit… I guess I should sleep."

"Sure, sure." The regretful expression on Murtagh's face was gone so quickly that Eragon wasn't sure it had even been there. "Rest well… Eragon." The voice was warm.

Eragon responded likewise. "Good night, Murtagh!"


	18. Beginning

* * *

**Beginning**

29th Harvest Moon

* * *

Eragon woke drenched in sweat and feeling nauseous. A scream still reverberated off the walls of the room and his heart was pumping frantically.

He sat up in bed and tried to even out his breathing. Judging by the light, morning was still far off.

This was the third night in a row that he was haunted by the same, terrible nightmare. Surely, except that one time when Murtagh had been with him he had always had nightmares - ever since he had regained consciousness. But it was getting significantly worse now. Eragon swallowed hard. He hated the nights. Everything assailed him when he was unprotected. At daytime, he was able to block out the things he wanted and was calm and sometimes even relaxed, but whenever he went to bed that changed. It took him hours to fall asleep, even if he was tired to death, because he was too terrified to close his eyes.

He decided that he would also not try to go back to sleep now, instead he started thinking about the last couple of days.

Saphira had been right. Actually, it _was _good to have Murtagh around. Eragon did not know precisely how it had come to pass, but his hatred had vanished and something indefinable had replaced it. Sure, there was more than one edge to their relationship and they still avoided to speak of anything delicate, however, Eragon felt comfortable in the older man's presence.

Since their dispute three days ago it had been raining almost constantly, and therefore they had mainly stayed indoors, doing nothing in particular. When Murtagh had been in Breoch, he had told Rynia that she did not have to bother cooking for them anymore, as both he and Eragon were well capable of doing it now. Thus they spent a lot of time in the kitchen, equally amused about doing what was normally women's work.

The dragons got along as well. They were by no means on a friendship level – according to Saphira that was mostly due to Thorn's egoistic and self-important behaviour – but they were peaceable enough and found things to do together in the countryside.

Eragon concluded that he could be rather satisfied at the moment – if he disregarded the awful nights and the twist in his feelings towards Murtagh. Furthermore, Murtagh was even more guarded in all he said and did at the moment than usually, and Eragon did not like that too much, either. For example, he had no idea where Murtagh spent his nights, as the older one always went to sleep later than he did and so far he had also always been up earlier. Saphira had told him that Murtagh was not with Thorn as Eragon would have expected him to; she thought it was because she was there as well. So he must sleep in one of the many rooms of the estate, but Eragon did not know in which one.

He sighed. He could as well get up now and find something to read or continue the carvings that he had begun. Perhaps Murtagh would soon wake up, too.

* * *

The day held no surprises. The two Riders were mostly reading in a slightly dusty parlour downstairs, not talking much. They were both too delighted about the companionable and pleasant silence and did not dare risk it with words. However, this did not help Eragon's weariness and by the time they were eating supper he yawned every other minute.

"Eragon?" Murtagh was worried. "What's wrong with you? I know that you're not completely well again, but _this_ tired?

Eragon pushed his plate and knife around a little before answering. "I haven't slept much last night."

Murtagh had an inkling why that was. "You don't get this drowsy from just one night with little sleep..."

"No," Eragon replied sheepishly, "but from the two nights before that I also hardly slept."

"Is that because of the memories?"

Eragon nodded. "The nightmares are getting worse and worse. I… I'm… this is embarrassing." He swallowed. "I'm afraid to close my eyes because of the things I see. I hardly sleep."

Murtagh moved his chair closer to Eragon. "That's normal, you know? It is all in here," he tapped against his head, "and it comes out when you're defenseless."

"It's terrifying. My mind is my enemy." It was merely a choked whisper.

"No, no, don't say that." Murtagh felt helpless, not exactly sure what to tell his brother. "Your body is not your enemy. Galbatorix is, and the men that… did this…" He trailed off.

"No matter what it is – I can't take it any longer!" Eragon stared at the plate in front of him.

Very slowly and carefully Murtagh brought his hand to Eragon's chin, lifted it up and turned the head until their eyes made contact. "Is there anything I can do? Anything that you _want_ me to do?"

Eragon opened his mouth several times as if to speak but closed it again before he lowered his gaze. He did not have the courage to ask.

"What is it, Eragon? Tell me, please – I'll do about everything. Except maybe run outside and wallow in a puddle of mud."

This brought the hint of a smile to Eragon's lips and he gave it a try. "I wondered if… maybe… when you were there four nights ago, I slept well." He glanced at his brother quickly, noticing a continued interest. What he said next was only mumbled. "Do you think… cou-could you stay the night in my room again?"

"Of course."

"Oh. You would do that?" Eragon's eyes were wide.

Murtagh smiled reassuringly. "Sure. Why shouldn't I?"

Eragon did not have an answer, but he felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Murtagh rose. "So, let's go and get you some sleep, shall we?" He was almost at the stairs.

Eragon got up and followed him. When he entered the room he saw that the fire was already blazing, making the room very cozy. Murtagh was busying himself closing the shutters of the windows, looking very matter-of-factly.

Eragon walked stiffly over to the bed, kicked off his boots and slid underneath the blanket. He, contrary to Murtagh, felt terribly awkward.

He heard more than he saw how Murtagh opened a cabinet and got out a blanket. Then he perceived some sounds that he could not identify and suddenly all was quiet. After a while he could not stand it anymore not to know what was going on and he sat up. He saw that Murtagh was lying on the carpet between the bed and the fireside, curled up in a quilt, his back to Eragon, who was feeling even worse now. "Murtagh…?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to sleep on the floor, you know." This was embarrassing.

"Oh." Murtagh's voice was inscrutable. "No, that's fine. I'm used to resting on hard ground."

"Uhm, but… the bed…it's huge. Three people could fit in here easily." Eragon had an odd feeling in his stomach and he was not sure where it came from. But he would certainly feel guilty if he made Murtagh sleep on the floor.

Murtagh got up rather quickly. "I must confess that I prefer soft big beds, though." He lay down about a yard away from Eragon.

None of them dared to look at the other, both very occupied with their thoughts.

"Good night, Murtagh," Eragon managed to say some time later without sounding to weird.

"Good night."

* * *

Murtagh half-woke in the middle of the night, noting that it was very quiet. So Eragon was in fact sleeping peacefully, but also the rain had stopped drumming on the roof. He got up sleepily and opened the shutters to let in some fresh air, then crept back into the bed and fell asleep again.

The next time Murtagh woke his heart missed a beat. He was looking right into two brilliant blue eyes, very close to his own. The sun was shining brightly through the windows, perfectly illuminating Eragon's face, which was full of restrained joy.

Murtagh was speechless. He could not remember _ever_ having seen a sight so beautiful.

Suddenly Eragon closed the distance and Murtagh felt a tiny kiss on his cheek. Then Eragon moved back quickly again, his eyes anxious, blushing fiercely.

Murtagh was rendered immobile. Was he still dreaming? It had almost been too much last evening being invited into bed, so maybe his mind came up with the perfect continuation to that. He closed his eyes briefly but forcefully and opened them again. His brother was still there, lying close to him, anxiety obviously growing.

"Eragon," Murtagh's voice was husky, "I-I thought you still don't have access to your magic..."

A smile found its way to Eragon's mouth. "I," it was only a squeak and he cleared his throat, "I don't. Why do you say that?" Relief was clearly audible.

Murtagh returned the smile willingly. "Why?" He chuckled. "Because right now I can't move and I can hardly breathe."

Eragon's blush deepened even more. "Is… is that a good thing?"

"Yes," Murtagh said softly. One of his hands cupped the other's face gently and his thumb began to stroke Eragon's cheek. "Yes," he repeated, "it is a good thing."

* * *


	19. Hands

**A/N:** I forgot to mention something **important**. In my imagination (and thus my story) Eragon has not only _**not**_ undergone that physical transformation thing; he is also _**not**_ a vegetarian. Why? So he can still have fun hunting.

**Reviews: **I love you guys. At first I thought I would write this fic for me… now I'm so happy that others enjoy it as well.

**-Drowned Hopes: **What do you mean you were gone? How dare you? KIDDING! your praise makes me blush so badly – lil Eragon is nothing compared to the tomato that's me.

* * *

**Hands**

30th Harvest Moon

* * *

Murtagh drew his hand back slowly. He could tell that Eragon had not minded the touch, but the younger one was still so nervous about what he had done that Murtagh thought he should give him some time to think about it. It was important now that it did not get awkward. "Am I right that you've slept well?" he asked casually.

Eragon cheeks gradually turned their normal colour again and he smiled. "Yes, I slept very well."

"All rested now?" When Eragon nodded he continued. "Then let's use the weather and do something fun."

"Like what?" Eragon's curiosity had just woken up, too.

"I don't know… depends on your leg, I guess. How far do you think you can walk by now?"

"Oh." Eragon waved a hand dismissingly "Far. In case you haven't noticed, I hardly limp anymore – I think we can take the splint off, too."

Murtagh chortled. "Funny, Eragon. How was I supposed to notice if we stayed indoors all these days? As for the splint – we'll stop by Jora later. I'm rather afraid of what she would do if I allowed you to take it off too early."

"You would be _afraid_, right," Eragon said mockingly. "But what will we do today?"

"Let's go hunting." Hazel eyes saw blue lighten up. "The forest around here is ideal for it and I stumbled across some bows when I tidied up the barn."

"Agreed! You go look for the bows and I'll pack some stuff for a snack. We meet at the gate." Eragon already rolled over to the side of the bed and reached for his boots.

Murtagh did not like to see him move away, but his brother's excitement was infectious. He hurried out of bed as well and within a minute he was out of the house, unaware that he was almost dancing instead of walking on his way to the barn. He stopped short when both dragons stared at him wide-eyed. "What?" He looked at neither one of them and hastened inside. "Am I not allowed to enjoy the sun?"

_Sure, _Thorn remarked sarcastically, _and now Saphira thinks you're drunk and I know she'll probably scold_ me_ for that…_

_Are you admitting that you can't handle her? _Murtagh asked teasingly.

_Never! She is beginning to like me, see? So what about you and the 'little one'?_

Murtagh had grabbed two bows and quivers and was currently scrambling through an arrangement of arrows to find adequate ones. He shot Thorn a quick glance. _Who calls him that?_

_The lady, of course. _

_Of course, _Murtagh grinned. _Well, I guess the 'little one' is also beginning to like someone… just that in this case it's me and not you. _

Thorn looked at his Rider fondly. _I'm happy for you. But take it slow, he's so fragile._

_He's not, _Murtagh corrected him, _but I'll follow your advice nonetheless. Have a good day! _With a pat on his dragon's flank he left the barn and saw that Eragon was already waiting. His heart made a leap. He rushed towards him, calling "I'm perfectly sober, Saphira!" over his shoulder. Eragon eyed him questioningly, but Murtagh had only a big smile for an answer. He took the bag from Eragon and they were gone.

* * *

They had roamed the forest for about three hours when their stomachs called for a break. So far they had not shot anything – neither of them was concentrated enough and also they could not keep quiet for an extended period of time. They came to rest on a small clearing with a soft, mossy ground, surrounded by beeches. Here in the forest it was windless and the sun still shone brightly.

Eragon sat down with a sigh, clearly exhausted. Then he laughed. "We're hopeless. I used to be known as an excellent hunter and now look at this."

Murtagh sat down to his right, leaning his back against a rotten stump. "We are indeed. Good that we don't depend on it for survival." He opened the bag and produced some bread and cheese, divided both in half and handed Eragon his share.

"But I know that this must be a superb place to hunt if your past successes here count for anything..."

Murtagh was startled and scrutinized a grinning Eragon. "What past successes? How would you know about them?"

Eragon turned a bit self-conscious. "Well, you've recounted them in great detail in your diary…"

"Diary?" Murtagh raised both eyebrows. "I don't have a diary."

"You used to," Eragon explained, "it's a small book covered in black leather-"

"Oh, that! I remember. I must have still been a child when I wrote it."

"I've guessed your age somewhere around eight or nine. Anyway, you're talking about the game you've hunted on every other page."

Murtagh was staring into the distance. "I was a rather sedulous little hunter, I think. I've always loved being out here, away from the city's dirt and stink… But I've never liked it as much as today." He turned his gaze towards Eragon and they looked at each other for a long moment. None of them had the courage to voice any of the underlying emotions. The silence got laden.

After a while Murtagh broke the tension, his voice a bit throaty. "What other heroic deeds have I done according to my diary?" To his surprise, his brother's cheeks reddened a little.

"Heroic? Many … for example, you've caught the cook and the smith red-handed…" Eragon's hands were busy pulling out moss.

"Oh!" Murtagh had to clear his throat. "I... I remember that as well, but I can't believe I wrote it down. I certainly would not do that today." Joviality was back in his voice, causing Eragon to lose his discomfort.

A while later, Murtagh noticed that the younger one was done eating. He really wanted to do something… A silent battle between longing and fear of refusal raged within his heart and mind meanwhile Eragon was resting laid-back in the sun, a light wind playing in his hair.

Longing won.

At a snail's pace he reached with his left hand for Eragon's right. He watched him stiffen but Eragon did not make any attempt to move his hand away. Murtagh interlaced their fingers lightly and concentrated solely on the feel of the warm skin. The hand was not bony anymore and the long absence of sword-fighting had made it soft. Murtagh had to repress the thought of where else he would like to feel that skin besides on his own hand.

They sat like that in silence for a long time.

As so often these days, it was the older one who broke the quiet. "Say, Eragon, what is it that Saphira calls you? 'Little one'?" he asked playfully.

Eragon was obviously embarrassed but still had to laugh a little. "Who told you? Thorn? Yes, she calls me 'little one'. I mean, I am little compared to her – but it was me who once held her in my arms. She seems to be forgetting that constantly."

Murtagh laughed. "Well, 'young one' is not much better, I think. If you disregard a dragon's specific characteristics, I am much older than Thorn."

"I would have never thought that someone like Thorn gave out nicknames." Eragon shook his head. "Doesn't quite fit the image I have of him."

"Nah, he hardly ever does that. Only when he thinks I'm in need of comfort. He's called me that a lot ever since I've learned of your capture..."

Eragon was instantly serious. He looked up in the sky and then at some point behind Murtagh's shoulder. "Why don't we continue hunting? Or maybe we could go home; I admit this is still a big strain for me…" He got up, their hands breaking apart.

Murtagh felt like running into a tree head first. He should not have said that. Take it slow, he reminded himself, certainly do not even hint at your feelings... and do not to talk about the imprisonment in any way unless Eragon touches on the subject. He got up as well and quickened his pace to catch up with his brother, who was already a few yards ahead of him. "Eragon, wait!"

* * *

Eragon was torn. He knew he had just hurt Murtagh and even more had he hurt himself. Why could they not have chattered away further? Why did there always have to be something that reminded him of what had happened? He set a brisk pace although it was exertive for him. He had exaggerated saying that he could walk far, but he did not want to appear frail.

He heard Murtagh's steps right behind him and slowed down until the other was next to him. "Can we go to Breoch now and see Jora?" He heard how irritated he sounded and tried to soften his tone. "I would be really happy to get that wood off."

"Sure, we can go there…" Murtagh said, his voice disinterested and impassive.

Eragon had a clump in his stomach. Right now he hated himself for being so touchy. Murtagh had scared him when he had taken his hand, but he was even more anxious now. Anxious that he would not feel that callous strength again. He stomped his left foot on the ground while walking.

"Hey…" Murtagh allowed some emotion back into his voice. "Did I scare you?" He reached for Eragon's arm and stopped him. "Please, tell me."

Eragon grimaced. Were his thoughts so clearly visible in his face? "No… Yes… I don't know. I'm more scared of myself. I'll have to work on it."

"Take your time, little one," Murtagh said softly, letting go of the arm. "You know, sometimes Thorn also calls me 'impatient bastard'. I am aware of my flaws."

They started walking again, more relaxed now, although Eragon could not stop wondering why Murtagh took the blame for this. But then again… how could Murtagh possibly know that he had not done anything bad?

Soon the trees around them thinned out and they found themselves on a small hill overlooking the village. They followed a footpath downhill and to Breoch.

Having left the forest Eragon noticed that the wind had picked up, driving clouds over the sky. "Do you think that means more rain?"

Murtagh glanced up, too, but shook his head. "No, the clouds aren't dark enough for rain. But it might get windy the next days."

When they approached Breoch, Eragon saw that they alerted the villagers that were working outside. Hostile eyes turned away whenever he tried to look at them. It was very odd. "Murtagh? Why are the people so afraid of us?"

The red Rider snorted. "They are not afraid of _us_, they are afraid of _me. _They'd probably like you well enough. Anyway, it's more revulsion than fear."

Eragon stared at him in disbelief. "But why? This is a village within the empire, and you're one of the king's men. It is even_ your_ village. That does not make any sense." He paused in the middle of the footpath pensively.

Murtagh stopped his stride as well and cocked his head. "What in this world makes sense, Eragon? Many people have long ago started to question Galbatorix – not openly, of course. Do you know that Rynia isn't married?"

Slowly Eragon's feet started moving again. "Yes, she has told me. That's why she still lives with her parents… What does that have to do with it?"

"Look at the people!" Murtagh waved his arms in no particular direction. "Do you see any man at least halfway eligible for marriage? No! There's nobody here for her." He sounded sad. "All able-bodied have been forced to join the army… most will never return and here at home the women and the old can hardly manage to get the work done. It will be another hungry winter for them – not just here but almost everywhere. It's a shame!"

Eragon knew that the people were suffering; it was one of the reasons why he fought this war. But he had not known that it affected Murtagh so strongly. He had always assumed that the older one did not care much about ordinary people. "And for them you represent all that… it does make sense now." He felt bad for Murtagh, because here he was hated for something that was not really his fault. He doubted that anyone except Jora or Rynia even knew him. In an attempt of diversion him he changed the topic. "So, where do I have to go to see my hopes either fulfilled or shattered?"

"Over there." Murtagh pointed at the small hut at the edge of the village. "And judging by the chimney she's home."

They quickened their steps and soon Eragon raised his hand and knocked on the door. The old woman was not in the least surprised and she gave them one of her rare smiles. "Murtagh, Eragon. My pretty young warriors."

The Riders exchanged a look to make sure they had not misunderstood. Murtagh bowed slightly, his voice amused. "Good day to you, too, Jora."

She chuckled. "Let an old gammer speak her mind on such a sunny day. You," she pointed at Murtagh, "are well aware that you're handsome. And you," this was directed at Eragon, "have turned from caterpillar to butterfly." She chuckled even more now.

Eragon and Murtagh did not dare to exchange another look.

"Err..." Eragon found his voice first. "We're here to ask you if you could take a look at my leg."

"Sure I can do that. Come in and sit down on that stool, will you? No, not you!" She held back Murtagh with her hand.

Murtagh was bewildered. "Well... what am I supposed to do?"

"Make yourself useful!" she commanded. "That big log of wood over there has to be returned to my niece and you're strong enough for the task."

"Jora." Murtagh smiled. "I'll carry your log, of course. But you're related to half of Breoch. Who's the niece in question?"

"It's the miller's widow who lives down at the river. Now get going and don't hurt your back – it's heavy."

Eragon heard Murtagh wheeze when picking up the log and making the first slow steps. After a few yards Murtagh stopped, turned around and called out to them. "If you were truly worried about my back, Jora, you would not make me carry this in the first place." Murtagh met Eragon's eyes and they both smiled. After that, Eragon rolled up his pants on the right side and helped Jora take the splint off. He leaned back and watched her closely while she was examining his leg, pushing her fingers here and there. "Jora… why do I have the feeling that you wanted to get Murtagh out of the way?"

She tapped on his leg with a wooden stick, causing him to draw in his breath. "Because I want to talk to you."

"Oh. Go ahead then, I'm curious."

"Every time I've seen you so far, young man, you've tried to tell me how much you detest Murtagh. I've never believed it, but now it's obvious that you don't believe it anymore either. Why is that?"

Eragon swallowed hard. He had not expected her to ask him about _that_. "I… don't really know… He has done a lot for me… and we used to be best friends… and maybe I can just see some parts of the old Murtagh in him again." He shrugged.

"You like him!"

"Well, in a way I do, I guess, but-"

"No." Jora was done with her work and was now watching him intently. "You like him in _that_ way. I may be old, but I'm not blind. That's why you wanted so much to hate him. I know enough of what's going on in Alagaësia. You must have liked him for a long time, unconsciously probably, and when he was gone and then emerged on the opposite side… Our mind finds many ways to protect us, young Rider. When the person you cared for so much left you, opposed you even, you didn't want to deal with the pain – instead you began to hate him!"

Eragon was at a loss for words. Some tiny voice inside of his head told him that she was right, but he had a hard time believing it. He liked Murtagh like _that_? Did he? But that was not good. "Jora… you do know that we're brothers, right? It's wrong!"

"Who cares? I don't, I know Murtagh doesn't, and you shouldn't either. Listen to your heart, Eragon. Listen carefully. And do what it tells you to do. Believe an old woman when she says that moments of bliss never last long. Use the little time you've got. Use it wisely!"

Eragon just stared at her, slowly digesting all that she had said. Suddenly he heard whistling approaching and knew Murtagh was coming back.

Jora rolled his pants back down and gave him a warm-hearted smile. "If you promise me to avoid any unnecessary pressure on your leg in the next week – no jumping, fighting or whatever else people your age can think of – the splint will stay off. You take care, Eragon!"


	20. Darkness

**A/N:** This was so much fun to write. Little Murty has some trouble with his libido and lil' Eragon is being brave.

* * *

**Darkness**

30th Harvest Moon

* * *

That evening Murtagh found himself staring after Eragon who was just mounting the first steps of the stairs. Every part of his body cried out to follow and so he clenched the door frame next to him to stay where he was. Take it slow, just take it slow, he repeated over and over in his mind. How could he have ever thought that he was longing for someone? Compared to the desire he felt now it had been nothing.

He closed his eyes and listened to Eragon's footsteps. He was thinking so much that ages seemed to pass between each individual step. Take it slow. He needed to remind himself where these feelings had gotten him and especially his brother last time. Without doubt he did not want anything the like ever again.

Suddenly he became aware that the sounds had died and he quickly opened his eyes. Eragon was halfway up to the first floor, on the edge of Murtagh's field of vision. He had gripped the banister forcefully and was biting his lower lip. Immediately Murtagh thought that he should stop doing that, the only one authorized to bite that lip was_ him_. Take it slow!

"Murtagh…"

Fate, that voice was alluring. How had he managed this afternoon to listen to it while sitting so close and not go crazy?

"-…with me?"

Murtagh rubbed his temples. He had not heard a word of what Eragon had asked him.

"Murtagh, are you alright?" Eragon's voice was full of concern.

"Yes, yes I am. I'm sorry, I was lost in thought. What did you ask me?" Eragon looking worried was definitely one of Murtagh's favourites – although pretty much every other expression was fine, too.

"I just wondered whether… you... would come upstairs with me again." The younger Rider rushed the words. "I'd really like to have another restful night."

Eragon should stop biting that lip and calm down, because right now Murtagh would do everything for him – and certainly the thing he was asking for. "Sure, it's the best bed in the house anyhow." Take it slow!

He took a deep breath and then sprinted up the stairs, three steps at a time. He got to the door the second Eragon did. Inside the room he automatically headed towards the fireside, but Eragon stopped him, startling Murtagh. "You don't want me to start a fire?"

"Well," Eragon defended himself, "I was just thinking that, as we're going to bed anyway, there's no need to use up all those logs. Less carrying the next days..."

Murtagh shook his head smilingly. "And I thought _I_ was a practically thinking person. You're funny." Yet he did not light a fire.

In the near darkness Eragon sat down on the bed and got rid of his boots. Then he lifted his shirt a bit and Murtagh's breathing stopped. He would not take his shirt off, would he? No, Murtagh exhaled, his brother was just scratching his torso. He really needed to cut these thoughts out now. Also, he had to prepare something that would stop him from acting once he was close to Eragon. He summoned the most horrible picture possible, which was Eragon in the cell, and flinched. That would do.

He found his way to the bed, too, and lay down on the right side of his brother, careful to leave a big space between them. He turned on his side and watched the shape that was Eragon. He could hardly discern anything. Good.

"Murtagh?" The voice was thoughtful.

"Yes?" He hoped he sounded calm.

"I like Jora."

"Huh?" Murtagh frowned, but at the same time he silently thanked Eragon; this topic would not induce any improper thoughts.

"She… is old. Don't laugh! What I mean is that she's typically old. With all that wisdom and knowledge that sometimes comes with age."

"True. I've always liked her for that. How come you're thinking about it now, though?"

"Well, for one she was so wise to take off my splint." Eragon laughed quietly.

Murtagh joined in. "Great argument, Eragon. Got anymore of the like?"

Eragon's laughter faded away and he was reflective again. "She has talked to me today, about… things… and… in any case, I think she has opened my eyes. A bit at least." He got quieter and quieter. "I'm not sure. But she's a wise old woman, I like her."

Murtagh had no idea what Eragon had just wanted to say. "I'm glad that you had a nice talk with her."

Eragon was silent for a long while before again attracting the other's attention. "Murtagh?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know about the other beds, but you were right, this one is truly comfy." He giggled.

"Good night, Eragon!"

* * *

Murtagh could not sleep. He had stared at the ceiling for over an hour now, perfectly aware of the other person in the bed. He thought that Eragon was awake, too, but did not want to talk to him. What could he say if his brother asked him why he was not sleeping?

With an immense effort of willpower he had managed to get rid of the worst thoughts bit by bit. It was especially hard because whenever he had been with an attractive person in a bed before, he did not have to restrain himself. Now all he longed for was being closer to Eragon, but he was afraid that his fantasies would be back in an instant.

Eragon's breathing was even, but Murtagh had watched over his sleep too often. This was different. He wondered what the other one was thinking about. Eragon _had _kissed him this morning, after all. A tiny, embarrassed kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. Later he had accepted his hand to be held and Murtagh was sure he had not disliked it, either. In any case, it was now Eragon's turn again to do something, although Murtagh was not sure if he had the patience to wait for it. On the other hand he did not really have a choice. Take it slow.

A lout bang suddenly jerked him from his musing.

"What the-" he sat up straight in bed, noticing Eragon do the same. A cold gust was sweeping through the room.

"Look, the shutters!" Eragon pointed to the windows, of which two out of three were now open, some moonlight entering the room, but even more air doing the same. "There's a storm outside and uuuuhhh," he shook himself, "the wind is freezing."

Involuntarily Murtagh did the same. "I guess autumn is coming with full force now… Damn, it's cold!" He pulled the quilt up to his chin, embracing the warmth it offered.

"What are we going to do about it?" Eragon sounded weird.

Murtagh chuckled. "What do you mean? Either _you_ – because I won't do it - get up and try to close the shutters again, or you just come over here, my quilt is a lot thicker than your blanket, and I have some warmth to offer, too." He had said it jokingly, already prepared to taunt Eragon when he would tiptoe over to the windows.

"_I_ am not leaving this bed, I'll freeze in the process!" Without further ado, Eragon shifted to Murtagh's side of the bed, lifted the quilt, and slipped underneath it. "You weren't joking, were you?" he asked nervously.

"N-no." Murtagh was dumbfounded. Here was his hiking trip with all its implications – and here was Eragon, making the next move.

Eragon stirred for some time before he came to rest on the side, his back to Murtagh.

The older one slowly lay back down, his mind still not really working. He turned on his side as well and huddled close to Eragon, wondering if that would be accepted.

It was.

With a sigh Murtagh relaxed, not knowing where to put his arms as he did not dare embracing Eragon while the latter was still awake. He stretched out his legs and- "Eragon, your feet are icy!"

"They always are," a trembling voice answered.

"Here, put them between mine, I'll warm them." A little hiss escaped him as Eragon did as told, his own feet protesting against the cold. "Better?"

"Mmhmm. Thanks."

Murtagh felt the other body loosen up slightly. He could not believe his luck. Eragon wanted the contact, too. "Anything else chilly?"

"I… I don't know, maybe… my stomach is a little cold, too."

Murtagh was speechless. Carefully he lifted his left arm over Eragon's waist and rested his hand on his brother's belly. He could feel the heart beating rapidly all the way down – and he noticed that the stomach was not cold at all. He had been tricked. "My hand like this?"

"Yes, that's good…" Eragon hesitated. "Is that alright for you, too?"

"Absolutely, I'm lying comfortably and I don't want you to be cold!"

"Uhm… well, thank you, but it's not really what I meant…"

"Eragon, am I the type of person who does such things if he does not want to?" Murtagh could not believe that Eragon was worried about _him_. But he felt that he needed to give a more definite reply. "You remember that I've already done it on my own accord four nights ago? It _is_ okay for me." He was glad it was dark, because they could not talk like this in daylight. His thoughts were confirmed when Eragon spoke next.

"You may not believe me, but I liked waking up that day… it's just…" his speaking turned into murmuring, "you held me really close then… I liked that, too."

Gods! Was that truly his little brother shyly advancing? Murtagh pulled Eragon closer, aware of how thin he still was. Eragon gave an audible sigh that sounded thoroughly contented. "This is what you meant?"

"Yes." Eragon rubbed his back a little against Murtagh's chest until he had found the best position, then sighed again.

"You're comfortable now?" Murtagh asked somewhat breathlessly. He felt Eragon nod in response. "Good, then let's stay like this."

"I'd like to."

In contrast to Eragon, however, Murtagh was not calm. The more his brother had relaxed, the more tense he himself had gotten. Now he wished fervently that Eragon would indeed not shift around anymore – so far he had not moved his hips but Murtagh knew that if he did he would get into a predicament.

"Good night, Murtagh!"

"'Night." He would certainly not be able to sleep, though he had gotten what he wanted - but only part of it. Eragon still smelt delicious and, except for his feet, he was wonderfully warm. Murtagh's pulse sped up.

Minutes passed. The older Rider tried in vain to keep his breath steady, thoughts whirling in his head. Technically it was his turn now, was it not? But already this night? Take it slow. Then again, maybe just a little more… And all of a sudden he could not hold back any longer.

He brought his face to Eragon's neck, shoving away the hair with his nose. He placed his lips carefully on the soft skin and gave it a small kiss. Eragon did not move – but his heart had begun racing for the second time.

Murtagh kissed him again, applying a bit more force this time. Soft hair tickled his face but he did not care. He retreated for a moment, questioning himself once more whether this was right. It had to be!

He closed his eyes – it was dark anyway – and revived the contact to Eragon's neck. This time he opened his mouth a little and used his tongue to make small circles on the skin. He felt a shiver run down Eragon's body and began to stroke his stomach softly, wanting to show the younger that it was okay.

He moved his head a little; his tongue was now working its way up to Eragon's ear. The skin tasted salty from dried sweat and seemed to be burning. His mouth reached the earlobe and he nibbled at it gently. Then his heartbeat stopped – Eragon had uttered a small moan. Murtagh's body reacted immediately and his desire was growing. Cursing inwardly he repositioned his hips so that Eragon would not feel it. No need to scare him.

Murtagh paid some more attention to the ear and managed to evoke another quiet moan from Eragon. What a sound! His mouth moved back to the neck, kissing it more vigorously now and then he bit it lightly. Eragon drew in his breath and swallowed. However, he made no move and Murtagh felt encouraged to go on. He wanted to get closer to Eragon's face yet the way they were lying prohibited it. With soft strokes he brought his hand from the belly to the waist and applied a little pressure. Sure enough, Eragon complied, turning very slowly and rather rigidly onto his back, breathing fast.

Murtagh opened his eyes again, but he could not make out anything clearly. The only thing he noticed were the two shimmering eyes directed at him. He brought his mouth close to his Eragon's ear. "Close your eyes, Eragon." It came out as a hoarse whisper. "Relax. Nothing I'll do will hurt you!" He cupped Eragon's face with his left hand and watched him close his eyes. Then he began to stroke Eragon's head, fondling the hair and wishing he could see the brilliant gold. The body next to him lost some of its stiffness.

Murtagh directed his attention to the neck once more, but now a good deal closer to the face. He licked it in abstruse patterns playfully. When he reached the little lump on the front of the throat, he circled it twice, feeling Eragon squirm underneath him. He was experienced enough to know that it was not out of discomfort.

His pants were _really_ tight.

"Eragon, I want to kiss you." He spoke softly; it would not have been audible if Eragon had not held his breath. "I know you don't want to talk right now, so… if you want me to go on, just keep your eyes closed." He watched Eragon anxiously, but nothing glittered in the darkness. Murtagh was jubilant.

He turned Eragon's head a little further in his direction and closed the distance to his lips. Savouring every moment he felt the soft, yielding skin against his lips and held the contact for long seconds. Then he broke apart only to kiss Eragon another time an instant later. This time he opened his mouth a little and traced the contour of Eragon's lips with the tip of his tongue. Next he licked across the lips with his whole tongue teasingly, wetting them. He felt Eragon quiver and heard him moan through closed lips. As a precaution he moved his hips away even further.

Once again he kissed the younger one passionately on the mouth; this time his tongue was attacking the closed space between Eragon's lips. And suddenly the barrier was gone. Unbelieving, Murtagh used the chance and his tongue found its way into Eragon's mouth. His left hand lifted the head towards him while he began to explore his opponent, running his tongue along the inside of the lips.

Just as he began to worry a little whether this was right - Eragon had been impassive up to that point - he felt a tongue against his own. Moving very cautiously it felt for his, and when he drew back, Eragon followed. Murtagh smiled and teased Eragon by evading him, provoking his ambition, and all of a sudden he was kissed back forcefully. Obviously Eragon was not a practiced kisser, but Murtagh could not imagine this to be any better.

Not really knowing what to do, Eragon completely relied on his senses, simply doing what felt right for him. He tried to imitate Murtagh's actions, but when he got to licking the lips he suddenly decided to act on his own initiative and bit them.

Murtagh moaned loudly, surprising himself. He felt saliva run down his chin and guessed that Eragon beneath him must be even wetter. He took a more active part again, playing with Eragon's tongue. They fought a mock war, which Murtagh could win after a little while. At last he drew back and closed his mouth. Something deep inside was telling him that it was enough for now.

He gave Eragon a kiss on his forehead, then on both closed eyelids and finally on the now closed lips. Then he rested his head on the pillow and felt how unprecedented warmth filled his whole body. He smiled blissfully in the dark. "Good night, little one." He sensed that Eragon did not want to talk about what they had just done, but he did not care. He was perfectly happy.

Unexpectedly, Eragon brought his face very close to Murtagh's and he gave him a light kiss on the lips. Murtagh thought he saw a smile.

"Good night, Murtagh!" The voice was quiet, touched. Eragon lay on his side facing Murtagh, who rolled on his back and pulled Eragon close, embracing him with his right arm. The younger one's head came to rest on the other's chest and his right hand on Murtagh's stomach.

Soon the deep breathing of both of them filled the room.


	21. Insecurity

**Reviews:**

**-Drowned Hopes:** :whistles innocently: I don't feel spoken to xD

**-orene treke:** Well, I'm really happy that you're enjoying my fic. As I've said somewhere before, I'm not so sure if it is canon… it simply matches my imagination ;)

**-sussiekitten:** :blushes:blushes more: Thank you! Can a single review make a day? Certainly!

* * *

**Insecurity**

1st Hunting Moon

* * *

Eragon watched the sun shine on the white wall on one side of the room. It was still very early in the morning and the light was of a pale yellow. The wind had slackened noticeably, but the air in the room was crisp, cooling his face. Or rather, the right side of his face – his left rested protected against all weather on the warm chest that was Murtagh's. He sighed and tried to do the impossible: huddle even closer to the brawny body next to him. It did not really work out, but as a response the sleeping Rider tightened his embrace. For Eragon that was just fine. He closed his eyes.

Bit by bit last night's events found their way into his consciousness. One of his hands reached up and touched his neck, right where it had been claimed. Possessive lips, working their way up to his ear. A swift tongue, caressing his skin. Eragon felt a shiver run down his spine. He had indeed wanted close contact with Murtagh, but he had not thought that the other would answer him like that. And he had had _no_ idea what it would feel like.

When Murtagh's hand had tentatively tried to reposition him, Eragon had been afraid for a moment, worried that he might not like what came next. How wrong he had been. How absolutely wrong!

Eragon's face was not cold anymore, heat rising slowly but determinedly.

Feeling the older one's chapped lips on his mouth had been… unbelievable. And then the tongue… After a while Eragon had sensed that Murtagh had tried to enter his mouth and not knowing what else to do, he had opened it a little. Then his thinking had stopped completely. It had been his first deep kiss. As the 'hero' that he was for the Varden, he had slowly gotten used to having bold girls come up to him and give him a peck here or there. It had always embarrassed him, but otherwise not meant much. Apart from that, he had heard talking, lots of it, about what it would be like to feel another person's tongue in your mouth, and he had been awake many nights trying to imagine it. Screw all that. The reality was entirely different.

Eragon felt his mouth go dry only thinking about the little that he remembered. And not only was his mouth reacting.

Deeply self-conscious Eragon became aware of his growing erection. He placed his hand on his crotch, childishly trying to prevent anything further to happen, but instead it sped up the process and a small moan escaped him.

He had turned a dark shade of red by now, embarrassed to the core. Had he been hard last night? He could not remember, all he had noticed were those lips and tongue, introducing him to a whole new world. Had Murtagh been in this state? He also did not know, yet he thought he had not felt anything the like. Then why did it have to happen now? And why to him?

Hopefully Murtagh would not wake up anytime soon, at least not as long Eragon's problem was still visible. What would he think of him if he knew? And, worse, what would he do? Eragon was sure that he could already picture the dark-haired giving him an odd look, alienated by his unduly response to the kissing.

He was confused. Last night everything had been so… natural. He had been shy and always a bit scared of what would happen next, but not concerned about the process as a whole. Now he was worried. Certainly Murtagh was not allowed to discover it. He had to stay cool. He might be the most inexperienced person in a hundred-mile radius, but he did not want to show how much all this affected him.

Now that he had decided on this, he needed his body to go along with it as well. It did not.

"Hey, Uuuuhhhragon," a yawning, sleepy voice greeted.

Eragon froze. "Hey."

"Slep' well?" Murtagh shifted slightly.

"Uh, yes, sure." Eragon swallowed hard. If Murtagh moved so much as an inch further, he would find out.

And Murtagh moved. He stretched lazily, kicking his legs around in the process.

In an instant, Eragon had unwrapped himself from the embrace and was on the other side of the bed, the front of his body turned away from Murtagh. He knew his face was burning, and his pants were clearly giving him away. He had to leave this room _now_.

"Eragon?" Murtagh was fully awake now, mystification in his voice. "What's going on? … Come back. Eragon?"

Eragon ignored him. He jumped out of bed and headed for the door, not bothering for more clothing, not once exposing anything but his backside to Murtagh. He rushed down the stairs until he was outside of the house, panting. Had he been able to see Murtagh in that moment, sitting upright in the bed, face troubled, upset, and very sad, he might have reacted differently.

* * *

_Saphira?_ Where was his dragon?

_/Eragon. Isn't it a beautiful morning?/ _Saphira sounded exhilarated.

_It's cold. Where are you? I need to talk to you. _Eragon scanned the sky but saw nothing.

_/Down at the river… do you think you could come here?/_

_Sure, I'll be right there. _Eragon left the estate, cursing under his breath that he had not at least grabbed his boots. His feet were freezing. And he would have needed a coat, too. The cold morning air was penetrating his shirt, making his skin prickle. However, when he neared the river and caught the first glimpse of his dragon, he forgot his troubles for a moment.

Saphira was in the water - which was only waist-high for her - had spread her wings and splashed around. She grunted in delight, sending bigger and smaller water drops in all directions.

_/Sometimes I wish I was a fish… then I could play around in the water all day_ and_ night. Care to join me?/ _Saphira marched upstream, wings spread, almost turning the flow direction around.

Eragon smiled. _No thanks, I don't feel so fishy today. And it's too cold anyway._

Saphira turned towards him for the first time. _/But you're already shivering! Why are you running around half naked? Summer is gone./ _She left the water and came close.

_I'm not half naked, I just didn't think about the season too much when I left the house. _Automatically he approached his dragon's belly, knowing that once Saphira was dry it would be warm there.

_/You don't have to think about the season to put on some shoes. It's not like you've got dragon paws at the end of your legs./ _She sensed that something had gone awry again.

_Where's Thorn?_

_/He's… right there./ _

Eragon watched the red dragon approach high in the air and then spiral down to the courtyard. Then he glanced up at Saphira, who stared in the other dragon's direction intently, looking thoughtful.

_/Eragon, don't beat around the bush, what has happened?/ _It was more an order to talk then a question.

Eragon felt his cheeks redden again. _Uhm, you know how it was really cold last night with the wind-_

_/Eragon!/_

_I… err… don't have to wonder anymore what it would be like to kiss someone… _He was glad that Saphira could not see him.

_/Oh./ _The dragon digested that for a moment. _/Little one, you know what that means? You have… fledged… to some extend… I think./_

_Saphira! I'm a human. I don't fledge! And it's totally beside the point._

_/I'm sorry, I'm just a bit proud./_

Eragon hit his fist into his dragon's stomach. _I don't want to hear that. So, the problem is that I kissed... Murtagh. Or rather, he kissed me last night and I kissed him back._

_/Silly, I could have figured out who it was on my own. But don't try to tell me that that's the problem. I'm not blind Eragon, and you've been very happy these past days./_

_Yeah… no… that's not the problem… This is so embarrassing, Saphira. I can't really talk about it. _Eragon was frustrated. He wanted and needed Saphira's advice, but the words would simply not come out.

_/Did you like it?/ _Affectionate curiosity radiated off the blue dragon.

_The kiss? __Yes._

The passion in her Rider's answer amused Saphira. _/A lot?/_

_Yes._ Eragon shook his head and laughed a little, helplessly. Saphira was always so interested in everything happening between two humans.

_/That's good. That's how it should be. But why aren't you with him now? Why did you leave the house?/ _

_I didn't exactly leave it, I ran away. _The second he said it he already knew it had been the wrong thing to do. Stupid.

_/That explains why he's so depressed… Eragon, do you know what you've done?/ _Saphira stepped back so that she was able to watch Eragon.

_Murtagh's depressed? How do you know? _So far Eragon had been too occupied with himself to think much about the older one.

_/That's why Thorn came back; he felt the need to comfort his Rider. He's sent me a mental image of Murtagh./_

_Oh, I didn't want that… _Eragon began to feel really bad.

_/Eragon. I'm not an expert with these matters, but: Murtagh had wanted to kiss you for a while, I think. Now that he's finally found the courage to do it, you run away as soon as the night's magic is gone. It's rather understandable that he's hurt and worried, don't you think?/_ Saphira's golden eyes seemed to see right through her Rider. _/I can tell that you're sorry to make him miserable…_ why_ did you run?/_

Eragon managed to hold his dragon's glance. _Saphira, this morning… I had… my... manhood... was hard. _Now he had to look down, deeply ashamed. When suddenly a loud dragon's laugh carried through the air he wished he was somewhere far, far away. Somwhere without female companions, where there were only males. Those would at least be able to sympathize.

It took a minute until Saphira had herself under control again. _/Little one, what's wrong with that?/ _She was still chuckling.

_It's… first of all it's not funny! _Eragon glared at his dragon. _And then… what's Murtagh supposed to think of me?_

_/I'm not sure. Maybe that you've liked it? That perhaps you're turned on by what he did? There's nothing wrong with that, Eragon, because it's the truth./_

_But… doesn't it mean… that I want to have sex? _Eragon was distressed. _But the mere thought makes me sick and dizzy.__ I don't want to have sex, it's horrible and… painful and degrading… I don't even want to think about it!_

_/Not yet…/ _It was only a murmur in Eragon's head before a period of silence. _/Little one!/ _Saphira's voice was decided again. _/After what's happened in the last two weeks... Was his conduct not exemplary? Do you truly think Murtagh would take advantage of you in that way?/_

_No, _Eragon replied sheepishly.

_/Do you like him?/ _

The Rider hesitated a moment. _Yes._

Saphira closed the distance between them and nudged Eragon lightly against his shoulder. _/Then you should tell him, the sooner the better./_

Eragon's mouth fell open. _Are you out of your mind?_

_/Certainly not, it's not only important for _your _future, it's also important for Murtagh. He's scared that he's hurt you. And you've hurt him./_

_Saphira! _Eragon was shocked. _I can't talk to him about my feelings. How am I supposed to-? It's impossible._

_/I leave that to you, little one./_

_I. Cannot. Do that. _Eragon clenched his fists.

_/Are you sure? Right now, Thorn is threatening Murtagh with biting off a leg if he refuses to talk to you either. Do you want me to come up with something similar?/ _

Eragon could not believe his ears. _Have you been in contact with Thorn the entire time? _

_/Naturally. We had to find a way to deal with our Riders' little problems. And we've just decided on a course of action. You're going to take a walk!/_

_Am I?_ Eragon sounded more than sceptical.

_/Yes, you are. Murtagh's getting your boots and something to keep you warm and you'll meet him at the gate. And we don't want to see you back for at least two hours./ _Saphira was resolute and rather pleased with herself.

_Saphira… I… You better brace yourself for when I return! _Eragon stomped off towards the estate's gate.


	22. Confession

**A/N:** Oops, chappie took me a bit longer than expected, but here it is. Enjoy!

**Reviews: **Ay, 100 reviews! Not that that's everything in life, but… I love it! ;)

**-Drowned Hopes:** Hihi, you should meet my ex… he so Eragon-ish at times, it's hilarious. Well, when we were still going out it was embarrassing, but now I can laugh about it :)

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole:** Be careful, if you dislike Eragon so much, Murtagh might come and protect him… Then again, you'd probably not mind Murty coming after you, right? xD

**-orene treke:** :sweatdrop: I'm happy that it comes across as being built up nicely… it's really tough :)

**-animeluva713:** I didn't even mean the dragons to be this way… but they decided and overruled me ;) I just think that if you were a dragon, _not_ being in control of your Rider who is only a fraction of your size and weight would be embarrassing xD

**Jack Skellington's Mistress: **Oh, ok. Well, that's good :)

* * *

**Confession**

1st Hunting Moon

* * *

Murtagh had a clump in his stomach. He knew that he had been bold last night, yet Eragon had obviously enjoyed it, and Murtagh had fallen asleep as a lucky person. His world had also still been intact on waking up with the blond in his arm. But then everything had crumbled.

It seemed that Eragon had already been awake for a while and had pondered about the contact they had had. Obviously he had changed his opinion about whether he had liked it or not. Murtagh hated to admit it, but he was really hurt – and also anxious that he might have harmed the person he cared for so much.

Now he was standing at the gate, Eragon's boots in one hand and a warm cloak under his arm, and watched his brother approaching. In the background he saw Saphira and behind him he heard Thorn take off and soon he appeared in his field of vision and landed next to the blue dragon. Thorn had instructed him to talk about his feelings. Right. As if that was so easy.

Eragon arrived at the gate, coming to a stop a few feet to Murtagh's left. They exchanged a short glance before quickly looking somewhere else. A few moments passed in awkward silence.

"Here." Murtagh held cloak and boots in his brother's direction.

"Thanks." Eragon grabbed both and quickly dressed properly. "Err, shall we go?"

"Do we have a chance?" Murtagh pointed at the dragons who were eyeing them closely.

"I guess not." Eragon scanned the countryside. "Let's head for the forest, the trees will protect us from anyone spying from above." He started moving.

Murtagh followed, focusing inwardly for a moment. "Keep your mind closed if you want this to be private… I can feel Thorn trying to sneak into my thoughts already." He shook his head in annoyance. Nosy dragons.

They closed the distance to the outskirts of the woods quickly but quietly and then slowed down. The storm had brought down many twigs and larger branches and they had to go round them repeatedly.

Murtagh was ill at ease and hee made up his mind to dive right into the topic. "Eragon? There are a few things I have to know."

His brother turned his head and watched him attentively. It did not look like he was going to say anything.

Murtagh sighed. "Can we maybe start by agreeing on honesty? If there's something that you or I don't want to say, we'll just keep our mouths closed. But whatever comes out of it should be the truth, I think."

Eragon nodded and gave him a small, crooked smile. "That might be tough, but I like it. It's a good basis… Agreed."

They walked a few more yards until Murtagh suddenly stopped. There was no use delaying it any further. "Did you like the kissing last night?" He held his breath.

Eragon halted as well, first looking to the ground and then up at Murtagh. "Yes, I did." The first traces of a blush were showing in his face.

Murtagh exhaled and raised an eyebrow at the same time. "Enough to do it again?"

"Yes." The younger one replied nervously but without hesitation.

"Would you kiss me?" Murtagh thought that the air between their bodies began to crackle.

Eragon swallowed and his eyes wandered involuntarily to Murtagh's lips. "I don't know how…" He was already there and pressed his mouth on Murtagh's.

Murtagh grunted in response, not having expected this so soon, but readily opened his mouth a little. Eragon's tongue entered eagerly and proved that he was a quick learner. He played with Murtagh's tongue and then paid more attention to the meeting of their lips.

All of a sudden, as quick as he had approached him, Eragon stepped back, panting, his face flushed. "I-I didn't mean to d-do that."

Murtagh was breathing heavily as well, yet he knew that his blood was not rushing to his _face_. "I don't mind, Eragon." He sent his brother a small smile, which widened when it was answered likewise.

They began to move again, this time only strolling leisurely.

"So, you've said you liked it last night." Murtagh spoke more to his feet than to Eragon "And you've just proven it, I guess. But what did I do to scare you away this morning?" He was not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Eragon was also admiring his feet. "You didn't do anything. I…had a little problem. Listen," he continued quickly, "could this be one of the things I keep to myself?"

Murtagh looked over to Eragon, a grin spreading on his face. "As I said before, that's part of the deal. But I think I have an idea what you could mean…"

Eragon's head shot up, eyes wide. "What? How?"

"Well, I'm affected right now, that's why it came to my mind so quickly. It kind of hurts a bit when walking." Murtagh grimaced.

Eragon did not dare to lower his glance to the area in question. He was deep crimson. "Err, uh, I think, uhm, could be the same problem."

Murtagh was grinning again. "It happens. Especially after being ambushed like that… Tell me – only if you don't mind, of course - have you ever kissed this way before?"

"Yes, of course." Eragon chuckled a little, some of his tension leaving him. "Last night."

Murtagh laughed out loud, causing a squirrel to scurry up a tree.

The next minutes passed once more in silence. Murtagh was watching Eragon out of the corner of his eye and it looked like the younger one was readying himself to speak, thus he stayed quiet. Sure enough, a few moments later Eragon screwed up his courage.

"Alright, I want to say some things, but could you please let me finish before you comment on it in any way?" He looked at Murtagh questioningly.

Murtagh nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

Eragon inhaled deeply. "Saphirawantedmetotalktoyouaboutmyfeelingsbu-"

"Eragon! I don't understand a word!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Eragon stopped next to the stem of an old oak. "This is not so easy." His right hand was kneading his nose nervously. "I've been ordered to tell you … No, wrong start. Remember that I've told you not too long ago that you're not my brother? I'm very sorry about that, but only because of the reason why I said it, the circumstances. I _still_ don't see you as my brother, you know, but it's an entirely different matter." He started walking again, aware that Murtagh's gaze was focused on him the entire time. "I mean, I actually like being connected closely to someone…to you… but I would not mind if the brother part wasn't there…" He drifted off, kicking a branch away with his left foot.

Murtagh chose his next words carefully. "What you've just said… those could have been my words - including the 'ordered to tell' part." He smiled briefly. "I've realized a little while ago that what I feel is not exactly… brotherly either. By the way, that's why you shouldn't feel bad about having a hard-on."

Eragon shrugged uncomfortably. "A topic to omit…"

"You're right, I'm sorry. I guess what I'm trying to say is that…" Fate this was hard. Murtagh realized just _how_ easy his life had been so far in this respect. Things changed once the heart was involved. "… I… we used to be best friends, right?"

"I think so, yes." Eragon was obviously relieved that the confession part was not his at the moment.

"Uhm... well…" Murtagh scolded himself an idiot. He had learned to speak at the age of two, what was wrong now? "I liked that, very much, but it's also not exactly what I feel right now."

Eragon shook his head. "No, it's… I understand. I also don't want to be your best friend. I mean," he looked up quickly, "you're the best 'best friend' one can have, I guess, but…"

They looked at each other shyly, none daring to speak any further. Suddenly Eragon reached out with his left but stopped short of Murtagh's right, apparently unsure. Murtagh simply took the hand offered and closed his own around it. Eragon looked at him briefly with deep affection in his eyes and then focused on the small deer pass they were following.

Murtagh felt a tingling wave of heat spread from his stomach to every fibre of his body. He could hardly believe what they had just exchanged, both aloud and also unspoken, yet Eragon's hand was a palpable sign. He squeezed it lightly. For some odd reason it felt even better now than on the clearing a few days ago.

"So," Eragon began after a while, "mind if I ask you something?"

"What do you want to know?"

"With all this," Eragon swung their connected hands around, "I wonder… you've had quite a lot of women…"

"I did. What do you mean?"

Eragon frowned. Was that not obvious? "Well, was that all fake or how…?"

"Oh, that." Murtagh sniggered quietly. "Mhmm, Eragon, I guess the world is a bit bigger and holds a few more secrets than you might know, growing up in Carvahall."

"Hey," Eragon protested, "I've seen a lot by now and I'm not a child anymore!"

"You're right. But I think that if you had grown up in a town you might have found out a long time ago that… I'm bisexual." Murtagh's eyes never left Eragon, curious as to how he would react. "I've never actively tried to hide it or anything."

Eragon's mouth formed an 'o', but no sound escaped. "Ah… uhm… you're right," he managed to say a little later, "Carvahall doesn't offer anything the like."

"Any_thing_? Thanks, Eragon." Murtagh grinned and shook his head.

"No, no, I'm sorry," the younger one hurried to say, "of course you're not a thing. Things don't feel this good. And you're also not any_one_." He pressed Murtagh's hand softly. "May I ask another question?"

"Of course."

"It means that... you've also been with men, right?"

Murtagh was relieved that, as so often, his brother's curiosity overruled everything else. "Yes, that's exactly what it means."

"How many?"

"Eragon, I haven't _counted_ them." And if he had he would not tell him – the figure would probably be way too high. "But it doesn't really matter, because none of them, neither men nor women, ever meant anything to me. They were only for one or several nights, good fucks, maybe one or two short affairs. It was all about satisfying my needs." Murtagh saw that Eragon got more and more uneasy and figured that perhaps he had not exactly wanted to hear that. "But never before have I cared for anyone, Eragon. I did not even know what that means – until a certain fair-haired Rider stumbled across my path."

Eragon smiled at him – change of topic accepted.

On Murtagh's part there was one thing that he really wanted to know, but he thought it was not a wise idea to ask. On the other hand, it had been bugging him for a long time and-

"Arya."

"What?" Murtagh was startled out of his thoughts and noticed brilliant blue eyes fixed on him. "How did you know?"

"Even _your_ face is readable at times, Murtagh. And I knew you would ask one day." Eragon sighed. "It's… complicated. I'm not sure whether I've figured it out completely yet, but I've tried. Want to hear my theory?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Murtagh snorted. "You were madly in love with her almost as long as I've known you. Yes, I am certainly interested in your 'theory'."

"Alright." Eragon paused. "First of all, I don't think that I was in love with her. Don't look at me like that. Listen. I was utterly fascinated, yes. And coming from _Carvahall_," he exchanged a grin with Murtagh, "I thought that that must be what they call 'being in love'. As I had no experience with these matters, I just went along with everything that is expected from someone who is in love. This is a weak explanation, but at some point - not too long ago actually - I realized that there must be a lot more to that feeling. And very suddenly all I could see in Arya was a friend... A bit vague, I know." He shrugged helplessly.

"Yes, pretty lame… No, Eragon." Murtagh began to laugh. "I meant that ironically." He understood it was a topic that wanted to be buried and it did not bother him much, because clearly Eragon had discovered that he liked men. Or at least – and best – one particular man.

Their steps scared away a lizard who had taken a sunbath on a rock. The little animal reminded Murtagh of something. "The dragons…"

"Exactly what I've just thought."

The corners of Murtagh's mouth twitched upwards. "At least I'm not the only one who's powerless when it comes to his scaly partner."

"Oh no," Eragon agreed, "so am I. And I guess we've just done exactly what they've wanted us to do – again."

"True. But we're not done yet…"

"We're not?" Eragon was surprised.

Instead of an answer, Murtagh halted and tugged at Eragon's hand. When Eragon was only an inch away from his face he whispered hoarsely: "No, we're not." He placed his free hand behind Eragon's head and pulled him close, claiming his mouth. Eragon was taken by surprise, but nonetheless reacted willingly. Murtagh knew his kisses were not tender at the moment, but he did not want them to be. He wanted to demonstrate the rights he now officially had.

His hand left Eragon's head and slowly wandered down his neck and spine and he felt how the body he touched squirmed and shivered. That he was the trigger made his blood race. He drew his tongue back from Eragon's mouth and bit down on the soft lower lip. Eragon moaned and Murtagh paused, waiting for any sign. Eragon looked somewhat astonished but even more dissatisfied that the contact had been broken.Murtagh did not want to let him wait and kissed him again, even more forceful now, yet Eragon stood his ground and kissed back passionately. Murtagh's hand moved further and came to rest on a butt cheek and he admired how the two body parts fitted together so perfectly. He felt the tight and firm flesh underneath the leather pants and could not refrain from squeezing it. A low growl escaped him.

Eragon stepped back swiftly, breaking all contact. "I'm so-sorry," he stuttered, "I can't… Murtagh? This is... no! C-can you hold me?"

"Hold you?" Murtagh had trouble understanding what was going on and struggled to calm his racing heart. "Sure, come here." He opened his arms and Eragon flung himself into the embrace, a sob escaping his lips. "Shhh," Murtagh tried to soothe him, "what's going on, Eragon?" He wrapped his arms closely around his brother, stroking his back.

Eragon had buried his face into the side of Murtagh's head and was mumbling into his hair. "I'm sorry, but I'm so easily upset still." He moved a little to look Murtagh in the eye. "I… I like to kiss you… but that's all at the moment. I can't do anything more, it's-"

"Hush, Eragon, don't say another word." Murtagh's voice was affectionate, and he raised a hand to wipe away the single tear that was about to roll down Eragon's cheek. "I _know_ that. I'm sorry that it looked like I was after more right now. I don't want to push you, little one. I want you to take all the time you need, understand me?"

Eragon's expression had brightened up. "Really?"

Murtagh ruffled the soft hair. "Of course, silly. You know, I would have never, ever believed that you might return my feelings. I'm perfectly happy the way it is."

A shy smile found its way to Eragon's face. "I wouldn't have believed it, either." He gave Murtagh a tiny kiss on the mouth.


	23. Intrusion

**Warning: **Things are getting pysically intimate... last chance to turn away.

* * *

**Intrusion**

2nd Hunting Moon

* * *

_/Eragon?/_ Saphira sounded slightly annoyed.

"Huh?" Eragon asked a strand of black hair in front of his face.

"Hmm?" enquired its owner.

_/Ah, so you're finally listening to me/ _the pleasant alto stated.

"What's 'huh'?" the likewise pleasant deep voice asked.

/Are_ you listening to me, little one?/_

"Eragon?"

_Yeah, wait, wait!_ Eragon shook his head in an effort to sort out his thoughts. "It's Saphira, Murtagh."

"Ah, and she's here in the room with us or why are you talking aloud? I at least can't see her." Murtagh sounded amused. "Wait, maybe she's hiding under the bed, let me check."

"No," Eragon laughed, tightening his grip around Murtagh's waist. "I didn't mean to answer her calling aloud. By the way, she couldn't be under the bed, she's afraid of dust bunnies."

"You're joking! She's a dragon!" Murtagh chuckled. "Then again, she's a female…"

"Yep, and often a mystery to me. I guess I should talk to her for a moment, though."

"Probably."

_I'm sorry, a little confusion here. _Imagining Saphira trying to hide under a bed had Eragon still smiling. That house and bed to cover her must be gigantic.

_/Confusion. If that's what you call it… This was not the first time that I've tried to contact you this morning./ _Saphira's attempt at anger failed somehow.

_You have? I didn't notice anything. _Eragon was perplexed. He had not heard his dragon?

_/Yes, I have. I take it you were busy?/_

_Busy? Me? _Strong hands, fondling his hair and massaging his scalp. Rough lips, caressing the curve of his ear and biting down on his earlobe. A deft tongue, playing with the skin on his neck and challenging the boundary that was formed by his shirt collar. And hot, long kisses, alternately tender and demanding… _Busy with what, Saphira? _Eragon asked innocently.

His dragon laughed quietly in his head. _/I have no idea… Say, you two disappeared rather quickly yesterday after you came back. Wasn't I supposed to brace myself for your onslaught?/ _Saphira could pretend innocence just as well as her Rider.

_Postponed. Fear my wrath! _Eragon knew she was grimacing now._ Is there anything of importance?_

_/Yes. Thorn and I want to go hunting a bit further away. We'd be gone until tonight. Do you think you'll be fine without me?/ _

_Yes, I will. You go have fun, Saph. Take a break from babysitting. _

_/Great!/ _The first wing beats could be heard outside._ /I guess I'll talk to you later then. And you take a break, too. So much kissing can't be healthy./_

_Saphira! _But their connection was already fading rapidly as the blue dragon was speeding east.

Eragon sighed. "Sometimes she's really sassy."

Murtagh turned in one motion first on his back and then on his side, facing Eragon now. "What did she say?"

"That they're gone on a longer flight and won't be back until tonight."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "It took Thorn about three seconds to tell me that earlier."

Eragon snorted "As I said, sassy…. Why did you turn around?"

"Because maybe I want to look at you? Enough with the experiment!" Murtagh was resolute.

"Oh. You don't like being in _my_ arms for once?" The thought made Eragon sad. He did not have any knowledge of being intimate with another person and thus he tried to mirror Murtagh as best as he could. Apparently it was not working too well.

"I like it, but I can't stand not seeing anything of you for so long." Hazel eyes were flashing.

Eragon felt his worries melt away looking at the most beautiful face that could possibly exist. He let his gaze wander and observed the piece of art that was his brother. How could there have been a time when he had not noticed Murtagh's attractiveness? The dark hair framing pale skin; perfectly shaped cheekbones and those lips-

"Eragon? Do I have dirt in my face or something?" Murtagh grinned.

Eragon blushed lightly. How often had he been caught staring by now? "I was just thinking… how come you're so pale?" Offence is the best defence.

"I just am." Murtagh shrugged the shoulder that was not pressed on the mattress. "I don't think there's a good explanation. Not everyone that exposes his face to the sun for only a few hours is as tanned as you are." He reached out and stroked Eragon's cheek.

"Mhmm." No matter how often Murtagh touched Eragon, it always sent a shiver down his spine. And he did not feel awkward anymore, although it was bright daylight now. Somehow yesterday had helped a lot - but he would never admit that willingly to Saphira.

"Eragon? After last night and this morning… can I abandon the bed downstairs for good?" Murtagh was only half joking.

"I'd be mad if you didn't!" Eragon took Murtagh's hand off his face and squeezed it.

"Good! I guess I can get up a happy man then." Murtagh sat up and stretched.

"Get up?" Oh no, Eragon thought. "Do we have to?"

"It's almost midday, lazy, do you want to stay in bed all day?"

Yes, if he did not have to stay there alone. "No, of course not. What are we going to do today?"

Murtagh scratched the back of his head and contemplated the question for a moment. "We're running short of almost everything and I like neither hunger nor cold. So maybe I start by chopping some wood-"

"_You_ want to chop wood?" Eragon thought he had misunderstood. Murtagh, noble-born and noble-raised Murtagh, wanted to do peasants' work?

"Don't look at me like that, Eragon. Do you think I'm too stuck up for it? Bullshit." Humour glimmered in Murtagh's eyes.

Eragon grinned. Someone who could swear like that could certainly chop wood. "What am _I_ doing in your master plan?"

"First you may admire me…" Murtagh ducked under the pillow that was flying in his direction. "...And then you can carry the logs inside, if you like."

"I wouldn't know what there was to admire but the rest I can do. Let's go."

"_You_ are the one who is still in bed…" Murtagh had to duck again.

* * *

It was overcast and rather cold but Murtagh felt sweat trickling down his back. He pulled at the axe that was stuck in the stump he was chopping up at the moment. He knew a few blisters were forming on the inside of his right hand but ignored them. He was almost done and would not leave the job unfinished.

With a new thud he crashed the axe into the stubborn timber and with deep satisfaction he heard it cleave. He picked up the two pieces and threw them on the heap of logs he had created in the last hour. By the nature of things he was a lot faster than Eragon, who just appeared at the front door again, little pieces of wood sticking to his clothes.

"Done?" the younger one called.

"_I_ am, _you _aren't," Murtagh grunted, fairly exhausted.

"Ha-ha," Eragon commented humourlessly, "what about helping me?"

"I don't think so." Working physically had helped a lot to get rid of the pressure building inside of Murtagh all the time. Having spent so much time in bed with Eragon when so little was allowed was more than he could endure over an extended period of time. He had felt close to bursting more than once.

Eragon was in front of him now, blue eyes sparkling. "Are you sure?"

Murtagh saw him wet his lips and felt the hair on his arms rising. "Yes, I am." He laughed, pushing Eragon away. "Don't tempt me like that. I'll go and buy some foodstuffs in Breoch. And I want this heap gone when I'm back," he exhorted mockingly, one index finger waving in the air, "or else…"

"What else?" Eragon cocked his head a little and smiled impishly.

"Uhm, I'll think of a punishment on the way." Murtagh turned around and started walking. Eragon had no idea how appealing he was at times and Murtagh knew he had to leave before he would do something to be sorry for later.

"Hey," Eragon called after him, "don't I get a kiss goodbye?"

"We're not married!" But Murtagh returned nonetheless, albeit stiff-legged, gave Eragon a peck on the mouth and then hurried away.

The moment he was out of the gate he turned right, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. New sweat was breaking out and he felt dizzy. Eragon was too much for him.

Unbidden his brother stole into his thoughts. Eragon had begun to really like making out, the repeated touch of his soft lips had left a non-erasable imprint on Murtagh's memory. Last night he had seized Murtagh's hand with implicitness and pulled him upstairs. Once in bed it had been the younger one who had immediately made the contact, kissing hungrily and burying his hands in Murtagh's hair. After a while Murtagh had had to stop him, his body burning.

And it was burning again now - the Rider was shaking with desire. He felt his growing need and cursed under his breath. He knew it was not going to lessen soon. He glanced left and right and, after convincing himself that he was alone, he began to open his belt and pants with trembling fingers. He moaned quietly when his arousal was finally released from the confinement his pants.

He took his cock in his right and began to slide his hand along the shaft roughly. It was nothing like the pleasures he dreamed of, but he knew well enough how to jerk off effectively. He remembered how Eragon's buttocks had felt in his hand yesterday and imagined himself having pulled down the blond's pants right there. His hand moved faster and a low growl escaped him. He would have shoved Eragon against one of the trees, spreading the cheeks with his hands and-

With a muted moan Murtagh came and saw how his ejaculate spilled on the ground. He shoved some dirt over it with his foot and felt like slapping himself, his heart beat slowly returning to its normal pace. Great! How old was he? On the other hand, ever since his first time having sex he had not had to restrain himself as much, so maybe it was just natural. After a while he thought that the only thing that really worried him was what he had imagined. He had pictured himself taking Eragon by force, not waiting for any sign of agreement. How could he? How big of an asshole was he?

Murtagh started to march towards the village. He arrived at the conclusion that perhaps it was alright this way. Better to think of it when he was on his own than if Eragon was around. And so far he had been able to control himself around his brother well. In any case, it had happened now and he had to accept it. As long as he was aware of the danger…

* * *

Murtagh was loaded with bread and vegetables and was on his way to the butcher when he began to feel uneasy. He attributed this to his inner turmoil earlier and shrugged. He was going to buy some quality meat now and could explore his feelings again once he was done.

When he left the butcher's, the nagging in his mind returned, stronger this time. As he was finished anyway he directed his steps back to the estate. Maybe Eragon had an idea. His magic was blocked but he was still a very intuitive person.

The closer to the mansion Murtagh got, the worse he felt. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He sped up and focused on the estate which steadily grew bigger as he came closer.

The gate came into view and it was closed. Murtagh knew he had left it open earlier – had Eragon changed that? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Murtagh dumped the stuff he was carrying and slowed down until his steps could not be heard anymore. He reached out with his mind and thought he sensed traces of someone unknown to him, but he was not sure. He changed his direction and headed for a large maple growing near the wall. If someone was here he would be watching the gate.

With few swift movements Murtagh climbed up the tree and then balanced on a big branch. When it got too thin to support him any longer he jumped.

He landed on the edge of the wall and struggled not to fall down and also to do so without causing too much noise. When he had regained his poise he crept along the wall until he had a clear sight of the courtyard. Then he saw them and his blood froze.

Eragon, unarmed, was with his back against the smithy, facing three broad-shouldered, albeit scrawny, men. They had their backs to Murtagh and were about thirty yards away, yet he saw that two of them had drawn their swords and the third held a big axe. They were dressed in rags and had long, filthy hair, but their weapons seemed to be of good quality.

Murtagh felt the well-known battle calm take control of him, his instincts as a warrior were taking over. He slid down the wall, landed on a patch of dry grass, and began to move towards the men. He drew his sword silently and without breaking his stride, readying himself to attack.


	24. Aftermath

**Reviews:** Oops, I forgot to reply last chapter. I apologize!

**-animeluva713:** Do you have sound notification on your emails or something? It's unbelievable, sometimes you have reviewed five minutes after me posting the chap.

**-orene treke:** Yay. You have recognized the cliffie! xD It was the first cliffie of my life ;)

**-Jack Skellington's Mistress:** I was just hoping that you could cope with it xD

* * *

**Aftermath**

2nd Hunting Moon

* * *

Murtagh was worried that Eragon would give him away, as his brother had long since spotted him, but he had underestimated him.

When he was almost there, Eragon moved a little and stammered something incomprehensible. If possible, he had even more attention of his attackers now. Murtagh focused on the man with the axe who was standing at the right flank of the three.

Then everything happened in a rush.

With three quick strides Murtagh closed the distance and raised his sword. In the last instant the man heard him approach but when he turned it was too late – the pale Rider thrust his sword into his throat.

The man closest by reacted fast and charged.

Murtagh pulled at his sword with force and was met by a fountain of blood once the weapon was free. The dying axeman sunk to his knees. Murtagh ducked under the mighty blow that the second man had aimed at him, and on straightening up, he pushed his sword into the man's abdomen from below, twisting it around. He heard his opponent scream in agony and felt him going limp.

The third man was more cautious, circling Murtagh in the attempt to get behind him. Murtagh responded by moving likewise, turning the guy that was still pierced on his sword. He managed to keep his human shield always between himself and the third attacker.

Suddenly the man moved in a flash around his dying companion. Murtagh let go of his sword and stooped to grab the axe that lay on the ground to his feet. From the corner of his eye he saw the blow aimed at his head and threw himself down.

On falling, he flung the axe at the third man's legs and hit. He saw the weapon's edge dug itself deeply into the calf; immediatey more blood was muddying the ground. The leg gave way and the man fell.

Murtagh jumped to his feet again and freed his sword from the second man's guts, stepped to the surviving man's side, put the tip of his sword at the throat and placed his foot on the chest. For a short moment, his own gasps for air and the raspy breathing of the wounded man was all that could be heard.

"Don't!" Eragon had grabbed the sword of the second man and shoved Murtagh's sword tip away with it.

Only now was Murtagh aware of the adrenaline rushing through his body. "He has to die, Eragon."

"No, Murtagh, two deaths are not only enough, they are already too many. This one will live." Eragon was definite, blue eyes blazing.

"They would have killed you. He deserves it." Murtagh did not feel like arguing.

Eragon now brought _his_ sword to the man's throat. "Why are you here?" His voice was icy.

The man had followed their talking with his eyes wide open in shock. He must have sensed to have an ally in Eragon and thus addressed him. "I-I…d-d-did…w-we not…k-kill-"

"Who are you?"

Murtagh felt his anger rise. They had come to kill. Kill Eragon. He would not accept that.

The man swallowed. "I-I live i-in the woods. I was a s-soldier once."

Murtagh spat on the ground. "A deserter. Great."

Eragon looked at him angrily. "It's not a shame to desert from the king's army."

"Kill him, Eragon, damn it! Get it over with!"

"No! Shut up!" Eragon hissed. "Look at him. He's an outlaw, he's hungry. I can kind of understand why he came here-"

"Eragon!" Murtagh was raging with fury. Without thinking he raised his hand to strike some sense into his brother, but stopped short when Eragon winced and hunched his shoulders in a protective way. "Fuck!" Murtagh dropped his hand and moved a few steps backward, letting go of the man under his foot.

After having counted slowly to ten with his eyes closed, Murtagh saw that Eragon was still watching him warily, his posture tense. "Well," he waved at the man, "what do _you_ want to do with him?" His voice was still full of anger.

Eragon tore his gaze away and focused on the dirty man to his feet. "Who has dispensed justice in Breoch all these years that no lord inhabited the estate?" he asked Murtagh without looking at him.

"The reeve. Don't tell me you want-"

"Of course. He's the one in charge of this."

Murtagh snorted, eyes furiously narrowed. "I'm not bringing that criminal to him!"

"But I am," Eragon said simply.

"And you think you'll manage? Think you can bring him to the village?" Murtagh asked tauntingly.

"Yes, I can. But you have to heal his leg."

Murtagh looked at the limb and saw that the blood was still sputtering out of the wound in waves. "Never!" They had intended to kill Eragon. And his brother wanted him to heal the outlaw?

"Fine!" Eragon snapped and kneeled down. He tore off a piece of the man's rags and bandaged the wound clumsily. "This will have to do. Get up!"

With a moan of pain the man stumbled to his feet, the tip of Eragon's blade never leaving his throat.

Eragon glanced at Murtagh one last time. "Where does the reeve live?" There was no emotion in his voice.

"Centre of the village, next to the butcher." Murtagh had adopted his well-known mask of indifference. "You're a fool, Eragon."

Without another word Eragon left, motioning his prisoner with his weapon to walk in front of him.

Murtagh could not believe what he was seeing. How could anyone be so naïve? "Try not to get yourself killed on the way. I won't be there to protect you!" he yelled after his brother.

Eragon did not react and disappeared through the gate.

Murtagh's anger took over. He kicked at the corpse in front of him, once, twice, three times, with as much strength he could muster.

Why did this have to happen? Why did these deserters have to come here of all places? Why had he not been here when they had arrived?

He kicked the corpse again.

Why had he not killed the third right away? Why had Eragon insisted on letting him live? And why, just why, had he, Murtagh, raised his hand against his brother?

"Aaaaahhhhh!" He screamed his frustration to the heavens above and then sank to his knees.

The sound of a sob carried far in the now silent courtyard.

Slowly the consequences of his actions sunk in. He had killed two men unscrupulously and had wanted the same for an enemy that was eventually unarmed and helpless. The heartless killer that slumbered somewhere inside of him had been in control. The killer that Eragon despised. That he, Murtagh, despised as well.

He hated himself. He had wanted to bury that part of him forever. And now he had alienated his brother anew. What could he do? He did not know.

Murtagh looked up and saw the two corpses and the puddles of blood in the dirt. He had to get rid of this mess. Again he felt his anger rise. They had come to kill Eragon!

This morning had been one of the happiest in his life. But that was an eternity ago. The world had changed its course.

* * *

Eragon left the village reluctantly after having lingered much longer than necessary already. He did not feel like returning to Murtagh at the moment.

He had brought the criminal to the reeve, who had been surprised but had promised to take care of the matter. He had seemed a competent man to Eragon, confirming the correctness of his decision not to kill the outlaw.

He was still furious and taken aback by Murtagh's behaviour. How could he have thought that his brother had changed? During the last days it had actually felt as if Murtagh possessed a heart and a soul. It seemed as if Eragon had been deceived successfully. Who had been the man who had held him tenderly last night? The man who had kissed him so passionately? Who had given him the feeling to be someone special?

Eragon stopped in the middle of the path.

If he was completely honest, he could also regard the matter from a different point of view. An idea had crept into his mind, unbidden, but also unwilling to leave. Murtagh had not hesitated to fight like a madman one against three to protect him. He had accepted the necessity to kill people in order to save his brother.

Eragon resumed walking and watched the sun set bit by bit, colouring the clouds orange and red from beneath.

Nothing would have happened if he had been armed. Even without magic he thought he could have taken on the three, especially if he had surprised them instead of them surprising him. Then again, he had not fought in a while and was still not in his usual shape… He certainly had to start practicing again.

Eragon was nearing the estate and saw a bundle of items on the ground. He identified them as the things Murtagh must have bought earlier and picked them up.

He had to talk to his brother. He had to ask him about his motives and tell him what he thought about the way Murtagh had acted. And that maybe the bed downstairs was not so bad an idea after all.

Resolutely Eragon entered the courtyard, uncertain what sight to expect.

The dead bodies were gone and the fading light showed that the ground was of its normal dirt colour, no traces of blood left. All was quiet and Murtagh was nowhere to be seen.

Eragon went inside the house and dumped the foodstuffs in the kitchen. He quickly checked all the rooms, but Murtagh was not in the house, either. He went outside again; he was not sure where to look for his brother. Had he gone to the woods? To the river? Or maybe-

Eragon heard a choked sound to his right that he could not place. He went into the direction of the noise and turned around the corner of the house.

There, slumped in a dark corner, was Murtagh.

He sat with his back against the house wall, knees drawn up to his chin, his arms wrapped around his body and shaking slightly. He was such a picture of misery that Eragon felt his chest tighten. Step by step he moved closer, making no noise, unnoticed by his brother. When he was only a few yards away he saw a single tear slide down Murtagh's cheek.

Whatever Eragon had planned to say, whatever anger and disappointment he might have felt, vanished.

In an instant he was at his brother's side. When clouded, sad eyes looked up at him he kneeled down and laid his hand on one of Murtagh's arms. Another tear made its way down the pale cheek and Eragon leaned forward to wipe it away with his index finger.

Murtagh stared at him in disbelief. "Eragon?" His voice cracked. "You're here?"

"Yes, I'm back." Eragon did not know what to say and some moments passed in silence. "I've brought the things you've dropped on the way…." How stupid was that? Yet he could still not think of anything else.

"Oh." Murtagh sobbed and pressed a hand to his mouth furiously to suppress the sound. He cleared his throat. "That's good. I forgot about them."

They were quiet while the last bits of daylight faded away and twilight soon gave way to darkness.

"Where did the corpses go, Murtagh?" Eragon finally asked.

"I buried them outside of the wall." Murtagh inhaled deeply. "Eragon, listen, I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't, Murtagh, it-"

"No," Murtagh interrupted. "No, I have to tell you. This is all my fault. I left you here on your own, I-"

"We couldn't have known what would happen," Eragon cut in once more. "Don't blame yourself for leaving me."

"Eragon!" Murtagh was desperate. "If I hadn't left you, you would not have seen the part of me that you despise. That I despise. The killer. The monster."

Eragon swallowed. "But knowing what is part of you is the first step to fight it…"

"No." Murtagh shook his head, his expression a mixture of resignation and determination. "That's only the theory. Because I'm not sorry for it. Do you hear me?" He hit his fist on the ground. "If I had to do it again in order to protect you, I'd do it. Even if it meant killing ten or twenty. You might say that I lose my soul in the process. I don't care. My soul is with you. And if I lose you… No, I'd do anything to prevent that!" He stared at the ground, fighting the nauseous feeling in his stomach.

"Murtagh, look at me!" When Eragon was sure he had the full attention, he continued. "I was so mad at you. I felt deceived. I was mad at my feelings for you." He saw how every phrase was hurting Murtagh and hurried on. "But I'm not anymore. Do you hear me, too? I'm not!"

"Why?" Murtagh whispered.

"Why? Easy. All I had to do was ask myself what _I_ would do to protect _you_."

Murtagh watched him sceptically. "I don't know. You're a good guy, Eragon, you're not like me."

"This has nothing to do with 'good' or 'bad'. You're ruthless and I'm naïve. It's only the question whether we can live with that." Eragon realized the truth of his words the moment he uttered them. And he had made up his mind. "As for me, I guess I've fallen for ruthless…"

Hope was rekindling within Murtagh and he marvelled at his brother's ability to forgive. "And I guess I fancy naïve… but there is more that I'm sorry for. I wanted to hit you, do you remember? That was wrong. I don't know how to make up for that."

Eragon thought for a moment before a warm smile reached both his lips and eyes. "Easy again. First: Be my sparring partner, I need to fight again."

Murtagh nodded. "Of course."

"Second: Help me unblock my magic."

"That's already on the agenda."

"And lastly... kiss me!"

Murtagh smiled back. "My pleasure!"

He moved faster than Eragon had thought possible. In an instant, Murtagh was kneeling in front of him and had his hands around Eragon's head, pulling him close. Eragon felt soft, slightly cold lips on his own, kissing him tenderly. Then the tip of Murtagh's tongue traced the contour of his mouth and moved along his closed lips gently, pleading for entrance.

Eragon felt an army of butterflies in his stomach and with a small moan gave in to the pleas. He folded his hands behind Murtagh's head and pressed the two of them even closer together. Their hands were fisting each other's hair, both needy to hold on.

Abruptly, they were interrupted by their dragons.

They both broke the kiss at the same time and looked up, perceiving dark shapes in the sky that were about to land in the courtyard.

"Trouble." Murtagh sounded worried.

Eragon shook his head. "We've managed just fine. I'm alright, you're alright. No need for them to get angry."

Murtagh snorted. "They will nonetheless."

He was right.

_/ERAGON!/_ Saphira was only a scheme in the night until she suddenly breathed fire.

_I'm here, Saphira. Don't yell at me. _Eragon wondered what a male dragon's voice yelling would sound like and felt bad for Murtagh.

_/I smell blood!/ _She was furious. _/What happened?/_

_Calm down, Saphira. _Eragon tried to erase all unpleasant thoughts from his mind. _There were outlaws here, but Murtagh killed two and the last is in custody._

_/Outlaws? Did you fight?/ _Saphira's tail was hitting the ground over and over.

Eragon thought her solicitude was exaggerated. After all, nothing had happened to him. _No, Murtagh did. Everything is fine now. _

_/Don't lie to me, Eragon! There are odd vibrations here… What happened between you and Murtagh?/ _Saphira came close and brought her head down on Eragon's level.

The Rider sighed. _We argued about his dealing with the situation. I was very mad. Was, Saphira, not am. We've sorted it out. Why are _you_ so agitated?_

_/Because I wasn't here! You were attacked and I was far away! I feel guilty!/_

Eragon saw the distress in her eyes felt it even stronger through their bond. _I'm sorry. I did not want this to happen, either. But now it's over, so please don't blame yourself. _He stepped closer and patted her neck. Everyone felt guilty for not being there when he had been attacked… He really needed to be his old self again. Needed to get back into a state where they trusted him to take care of himself.

_/I can't do that, but I'll try./ _Saphira was beginning to calm down. _/You and Murtagh... have you made up?/ _

_Not quite. We were in the process of doing so when you came back. _The memory made him blush in the darkness.

_/Then go and finish it, little one./_

_Can I leave you for tonight?_

_/__I'm not a hatchling anymore./ _Saphira nudged him. _/You go and get some rest. I'll do likewise./_

Eragon hugged his dragon briefly. _Good night, beautiful!_

When Saphira turned towards the barn, Eragon saw that Thorn was already there and he turned towards the house, seeing a dark shape in front of the house. Murtagh was waiting for him and Eragon hurried over the dark courtyard.

"You alright?" his brother greeted him.

"Sure, she just feels guilty… what about you? Got a yelling as well?"

"Don't ask. But of course Thorn wasn't worried, he was only mad at me for ruining the day. Apparently they had gotten along quite well when hunting." Murtagh shrugged. "He'll get over it."

Eragon reached for Murtagh's hand. "Let's go to bed." A very short glimmer in the the other's eyes told him that Murtagh had been unsure whether Eragon had wanted him at his side.

Once in bed Eragon felt weird. Too many emotions had assailed him today, leaving him edgy. When Murtagh asked shyly whether he was to finish the third condition, Eragon did not even bother to answer but kissed a surprised but compliant Murtagh vigorously. His whole skin prickled and he thought that it went far below the surface of his body. Somehow the kissing did not satisfy him as much as it usually did and he groaned in frustration.

Murtagh had lit a fire on entering the room and now he was on top of Eragon, who broke the kiss and watched the dark-haired closely in the golden light. With a loud bang inside of his head Eragon realized that he wanted more.

He brought their lips together once more, but diverted some of his attention away from kissing. His hands wandered over the broad shoulders and muscular back on top of him until they reached Murtagh's waist. He grabbed the black shirt and pulled at it until it came free of the trouser waistband and the belt.

Murtagh froze and closed his mouth, watching Eragon intently.

Eragon's hands moved further to his brother's sides and then upwards from waist to chest, shoving the shirt along and then over the head.

In one swift motion Murtagh freed his arms as well. He was more self-conscious about being half naked than he had been in years. "What are you doing?" he asked huskily.

"I wanted to see more of you…" Eragon whispered and pushed Murtagh lightly into a lying position next to him. He placed his hand on the warm skin and felt his brother shiver. With a light smile he began to stroke the strong chest and trained belly, tracing every muscle that he could feel. "I like what I'm seeing," he murmured partly to himself.

"Breathe!" Murtagh ordered with a snicker.

"Oh." Eragon had not even noticed that he had been holding his breath. "But you're mostly gasping yourself."

"Why do you think that is…?" a low, throaty voice inquired. Murtagh felt secure now and pushed himself into a sitting position before shifting to be on top of Eragon again. "May I, too?" he asked quietly.

Eragon hesitated before nodding, the prickling on his skin increasing. "B-But not further... please." He swallowed hard.

"Shhhh." Murtagh kissed him briefly, "of course. I'll make you like it."

Eragon closed his eyes and concentrated solely on his sense of feel. His shirt was removed and then – nothing. Eragon opened his eyes again and found Murtagh staring at him, longing and affection in his gaze. "What...?"

"I'm sorry," Murtagh said softly, "it's just that I can't remember ever having seen someone so beautiful."

Eragon grunted. "Men aren't beautiful, Murtagh."

His brother raised an eyebrow. "They aren't? Well, handsome then. Am I allowed to call you handsome?" He was grinning.

"You may." Eragon waved his hand in a royal gesture and then joined Murtagh who had started to laugh.

"Close your eyes again," the older one ordered after a while and Eragon did as he was told. He felt Murtagh's lips on his own for a moment and then his brother's mouth moved downwards, placing kisses on his chin, neck, chest and finally arrived at his belly button. Eragon squirmed.

"Ticklish?" Murtagh sounded amused.

"Just a bit."

Then Murtagh used his tongue as well and Eragon gasped, feeling his whole body react - further down, too. Murtagh traced the way back he had come, his tongue swirling over the skin. However, he changed course when he got to Eragon's chest and suddenly he kissed the right nipple. With a moan Eragon opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but Murtagh pushed him back and sat down on his waist to hold him in place. "Your eyes…"

Obediently, Eragon closed them once more. Again he felt Murtagh's mouth on his hard nipple and could not suppress another moan. He knew that it was a sensitive area of his body, but this? Never had he imagined that it could feel this way. He was fully erect by now and shifted his hips.

Murtagh switched his attention to the left nipple, not only kissing but also sucking at it more and more intensely. Next Eragon felt Murtagh's fingers play with his right nipple at the same time and another part of his body was beginning to throb, driving him insane. "Mu-Murtagh, I-I no... not go-good," he panted.

"You don't like it?" Murtagh asked innocently, his lips and tongue losing touch with his brother's skin only briefly.

"It's... amazing, bu-but-"

Murtagh brought his mouth up to Eragon's ear. "I have felt your 'problem' grow in the last minutes," he whispered, "what do you think I'm trying to do?" He moved back down, mouth now on the right nipple again, hand on the left.

Eragon felt his cheeks burn. Murtagh _wanted_ it to happen? "But… but the pants…"

"Eragon!" Murtagh paused and laughed quietly. "Please, don't think about your pants now. If you want me to, I'll wash them tomorrow. And now forget about them!" Then he returned to his job.

Soon, very soon, Eragon stopped thinking altogether. He felt his erection pulse harder and faster and groaned. Then all of a sudden Murtagh bit into his skin and simultaneously pinched the other nipple. With a stifled groan, Eragon came. He gasped for air and felt the blood racing in his veins. Heat was spreading in his whole body, even his feet were burning. For some odd reason his back hurt – he must have tensed it without noticing. Then Murtagh was there, pulling him into an embrace, kissing him tenderly. The feel of their naked skin touching was incredible.

Stunned, Eragon noticed that he was not embarrassed at the moment. Certainly he would be soon enough, so he could as well enjoy the moment. "That was…."

"Hush, Eragon. Let's not talk about it now." Murtagh's voice was affectionate. "Come here," he brought the two of them into a comfortable sleeping position, "and let's go to sleep, shall we?"

"As you wish," Eragon agreed readily. "Let's have wonderful dreams."


	25. Guardian

**Reviews:**

**-animeluva713:** I have _no_ idea what you could mean… :whistles innocently:

**-orene treke:** Yep, I figured I needed Eragon to be the reasonable one for once.

**-Jack Skellington's Mistress:** Here are the pants, part II. Get your fan and enjoy xD

**-Drowned Hopes:** Don't you dare be depressed, goddess of writing! Anyway, I never liked the Eragon from the books too much. In my imagination he's quite alright, though, and thus I also see him in my fic ;)

**-LaylaBinx:** Muchas gracias!

* * *

**Guardian**

3rd Hunting Moon

* * *

Murtagh wondered whether he should wake Eragon. He watched the young man sleeping peacefully, hair ruffled, a leg sticking out from under the blanket, and decided against it. Why not let him rest some more? There was no time pressure.

He smiled and went towards the balcony door. This was one of the many odd things of these days: He found himself smiling and even laughing frequently. In the last week it had happened about as many times as in his whole life before altogether. His brother really had the strangest effects on him.

With a little shiver he stepped outside. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day, but the air was already frosty in the mornings. Murtagh pulled his cloak closer around himself. Maybe he should have bothered to put on a shirt – but as his plan was to return to Eragon soon, he would definitely not give up on the newly earned right to have skin contact. He watched the hoarfrost glitter in the sun in a truly autumn countryside. During the last week, all trees had turned red or golden and parts of their leaves were colouring the ground as well. Murtagh had not even noticed the surroundings change; his only focus was a lot more striking than all scenic beauties.

Last night he had not been able to fall asleep. Instead, he had stared at the blond sleeping in the firelight. Eragon was still too skinny, but that did not lessen his attractiveness much. He had a body to revere and Murtagh was planning to do just that. Once that thought had formed in his mind he had left the room for a moment as a precaution and taken care of himself again. He did not feel too good about it, but it was all he could do to stay cool around Eragon. Or at least halfway cool. Afterwards he had had the glorious idea to go and look for clean pants. Of course he would wash the light brown ones if Eragon asked him to, but it was none of his favourite pastimes. Now there was a pair of russet-coloured breeches lying on the edge of the bed, waiting to be worn by that tight ass and-

What was he thinking? He should rather come up with something to tell Eragon why yesterday had not been anything to be ashamed of. He had an inkling what the younger one would think on awakening.

"Murtagh?"

He went back inside quickly. "Hello sleepy, good morning!"

Eragon watched him drowsily and then pointed with his hand at the empty space next to him. "You. Here."

Murtagh grinned and complied, slipping underneath the blanket. "I see we are very talkative this morning." Instead of a spoken reply he was being kissed thoroughly and decided that sometimes talking was not the only good thing to do.

"Alright," Eragon said contentedly after a while, "now the day can start. What were you doing outside?" He noticed the pants on the end of the bed and instantly forgot about his question. Heat was rising in his cheeks.

Murtagh pulled him close, making as much skin contact as possible on purpose. "I was outside to think of a way to convince you not to be embarrassed."

"Impossible!" It came out between clenched teeth. "This _is_ embarrassing." Had he really...? Eragon would give a lot to undo the last night.

"No, why should it be? I never understood that problem of yours in the first place. By the way," Murtagh grinned evilly, "what's the status now?" He lifted the blanket and scanned Eragon below the waistline.

Eragon squeaked and pushed the blanket back down forcefully. "Don't. There. Is. Nothing! Nothing to see!" He was as red as the trees outside.

Murtagh's suppressed laughter broke out freely. "It's not like you're the only man in the world, you know. Tell me, where's the problem?"

"I don't know!" Eragon hit the mattress in frustration. "For example, it's always me. You're never affected, it's-" Eragon paused, watching the other confusedly.

Murtagh was shaken by a new wave of laughter. It took him a while to calm down again. "Just because I don't make a fuss about it doesn't mean that I never have one… You're always too busy being ashamed of yourself, you just don't notice."

Eragon contemplated that for a moment. "Maybe. And _of course_ I know I'm not the only man in the world. But it… it's always a sign that someone wants to have sex, right?" He continued very quickly. "And I don't, and so I don't want you to think that I do, and so it's really embarrassing, and I hate that I can't do anything about it, and-"

"Nonsense!" Murtagh tousled Eragon's hair. "If everyone in Alagaësia worried about such trivial things as much as you do, there would be no war and no trouble. But also no food, no clothes, nothing, because no one would have the time to get anything done – everyone would be busy worrying all the time. All it means is that you're turned on… by me, I guess. There's nothing wrong with that," Murtagh added smugly.

Eragon sighed. "Nah, I don't know. When you say it like that it sounds as if everything's alright… But the pants… I'm not thirteen."

Murtagh smiled. Here was Eragon Shadeslayer, first of a new generation of Riders, hope of the Varden, survivor of Galbatorix' madness. And yet he was troubled by those little signs of his awakening sexuality. That was just adorable. "Eragon?"

"Hmm?" Blue eyes focused on him.

"Did I ever tell you that you're cute?"

Eragon raised an eyebrow. "No."

"You're cute!"

Murtagh was rewarded with one of the most beautiful smiles he could imagine. With a grin he continued. "Don't try to tell me that you did not like it last night."

Eragon shook his head and ran his hand along Murtagh's chest to prove it. "No."

Murtagh plucked up courage. "So, I know you liked it, yet you did not like to come in your pants…" He saw Eragon flinch. "And I must say that there are better ways… I mean, I could make you orgasm without getting anything dirty." He bit his lip.

Eragon was deeply interested in his hands. "Go on," he mumbled.

Murtagh felt heartened. "How much do you know about sex?"

"That is a _very_ broad question…" Eragon drawled.

"Then give me a _very _broad answer…" Murtagh imitated him perfectly, earning a brief smile.

Eragon swallowed and picked at a fibre that was sticking out of the blanket. "Err, not too much, I guess…" He shot one timid glance at Murtagh then focused on the fibre again. "I really hadn't had the time in the past years… not that I wouldn't have liked to… but… Not too much, to be honest. What do you mean by, uhm, not getting anything dirty?"

Murtagh studied Eragon for a moment. In his thoughts he was already pulling down the stained pants and finally catching sight of his brother's most private part. He had been dreaming of it for so long and was yearning to learn the truth about his fantasies. He wanted to touch it, lick it, pleasure it in every way known to him and above all he wanted to find out what Eragon tasted like. But how much would Eragon allow him to do? He ignored his own need and changed his plans.

"I would certainly like to show you." Murtagh paused, chosing his next words. "As I said, I know you liked it last night. And I can take you so much further..." He saw he had Eragon's full attention and leaned close to his ear, shoving away some hair and whispering seductively: "...Later."

"What?" Eragon asked unbelievingly, straightening up. "Later? Why later?" He kissed Murtagh briefly. "Are you getting up? Why? I thought we would… do something… now?" He was obviously frustrated.

Murtagh grinned and put on a dark grey shirt. It would all be so much easier if Eragon was craving more, too. "Get up, brother, we'll be having breakfast in the woods."

* * *

Half an hour later they were marching through the forest, Eragon somewhat grumpily in front and Murtagh relaxed half a step behind him. The sun had warmed the air by now and leaked through the trees to the ground.

After a while Eragon stopped underneath a large oak, where the wind had assembled a small heap of colourful leaves. "This looks nice, doesn't it?" He sounded anything but happy about the place, but Murtagh thought that even paradise would not look inviting to Eragon at the moment. He cheered inwardly. Eragon was horny, which was exactly what he had wanted.

"Yeah, looks good," he said innocently, meanwhile stepping close to the younger Rider. "Do you want to have breakfast now, or...?" He did not finish the question.

Eragon stared at him for a moment and then realization dawned on his face. He wetted his lips and lowered his voice. "What else is there to do here?"

Murtagh knew the other was doing that on purpose and his pulse sped up. "Do you trust me?" His voice was hoarse.

"You know that I do."

Murtagh nodded and reached for Eragon's hand, leading him over to the stem of the oak and positioned him with his back to the tree. It would enable Eragon to lean on something if he needed to steady himself.

He placed his hands against the tree on both sides of Eragon's head and began kissing the soft lips. His demand for entrance was granted right away. Very carefully, Murtagh brought himself closer and closer to Eragon until their bodies were pressed together tightly. Soon he felt not only his own need grow but also a likewise reaction of the other body. He ground his hips against their counterparts and heard Eragon moan. At the same time, he noticed that Eragon was completely hard and a low growl vibrated in Murtagh's chest. Now.

He broke the kiss and kneeled down, ignoring Eragon's puzzled look. With practised fingers he unbuckled the belt in front of him and opened the pants. Yet he still left them in place and looked up, studying Eragon's expression. The younger one was breathing irregularly and looked down at him with eyes wide open. Murtagh saw longing and excitement, trust, but also… fear. However, it was not dominant and he decided it was only natural. He lowered his gaze.

His head was exactly at the level of Eragon's waist and he swiftly he pulled down the pants to the knees - and froze. There in front of him was Eragon, fully erect, and _big_. Murtagh was thrilled. Screw those fantasies, reality was so much better. Without further ado, he kissed the head of Eragon's cock and ran his tongue along the slit, tasting precum. Another growl escaped him, mixing with a long moan from Eragon.

Murtagh began to kiss the full length and nibbled at the vein on the underside. Then he used his tongue and swirled around Eragon's erection entirely.

His own arousal was throbbing and he got more and more stimulated not only by the size he was attending to, but also by the sounds he was hearing. Eragon had stopped moaning a while ago and was now whimpering in pleasure. His hips began to tremble, so Murtagh pressed his hands to the slim waist, holding it in place. Very slowly, he brought his mouth around the head of Eragon's cock, teasing him with his tongue mercilessly. A moment later he had enough and took the entire shaft in his mouth. He paused like that shortly, enjoying the stifled cry that had come from Eragon.

Then he began to move his head forward and backward, slowly picking up speed. Every time he felt the tip of the cock hit the back of his throat, a shiver ran down his spine. It was tough to take all of Eragon in, but Murtagh had learned long ago to suppress his gag reflex and never had he liked being short of breath as much as now.

Before long he felt the cock pulsate stronger and stronger and knew climax was not far off. Sure enough, there were two hands around his head suddenly, but they were trying to push him away, not hold him in place as everyone else would have done. Murtagh resisted, but cocked his head and looked up at Eragon, not stopping with what he was doing.

Eragon gasped and groaned alternately, face and throat sweaty. He was looking down at Murtagh. "Do-Don't… I-I-I'm co-coming, don't… no..."

Murtagh decided Eragon's discomfort was one to be ignored. He scraped his teeth gently along the length as well, careful not to hurt the sensitive head. Seconds later he perceived a muted scream and despite his firm grip, Eragon's hips buckled, shoving the first load of release deep into Murtagh's throat. He was half choking, but hungered for more and did not stop pleasuring Eragon until he had sucked him dry.

With a little sigh of contentment he closed his eyes and enjoyed the taste.

* * *

Eragon took some deep breaths until the dizziness stopped and he could see clearly again. He stared down at Murtagh in disbelief. The older one had just swallowed his whole orgasm. Deliberately! And strange as that already was, he had also taken pleasure in it. Memories of himself chocking and crying in his brother's situation fought their way into Eragon's mind, but he pushed them away. The circumstances could not be compared at all.

He kneeled down as well, but only to pull Murtagh up with him again. Hazel eyes were blazing with desire. With a pang of guilt Eragon realized that the other one was not satisfied yet, and a quick glance at Murtagh's hips confirmed that. Eragon began kissing the older one and was meanwhile wondering what he could do. He had the strong urge to finally give Murtagh something in return; however, most that came to his mind was accompanied by a nauseous feeling in his stomach.

Touching. He thought that touching would be alright. Slowly his right hand wandered down Murtagh's side, remembering the stunning body underneath the shirt. When his hand did not stop at the waist, but instead moved to the inside of one thigh, Murtagh stopped kissing and watched him attentively, his breathing accelerating.

Eragon moved his hand further decisively, and placed it on Murtagh's crotch. He closed his eyes and felt the need beneath his hand. Inexperienced, but not clumsily, he began to massage the hardness through the leather pants.

A raucous groan caused him to open his eyes again and he found Murtagh stare at him, unreadable emotions in his eyes before he closed them. Eragon kneaded more forceful now and brought his other arm around Murtagh's back, pulling him close. He kissed him firmly and for once, it was him to inflict some pain. He bit Murtagh's lip, and, encouraged by the growl he got as a response, he bit it again, fiercely, only stopping when he tasted blood. What was he doing?

But Murtagh seemed not to care. Eragon felt the strong body shudder and suddenly he was embraced tightly. Murtagh bit down on his neck and with a deep, violent groan he trembled one last time. Then all went quiet and still so that only the unsteady, hard breathing of both of them could be heard.

With a small grin Eragon whispered in Murtagh's ear: "Now _your_ pants are dirty, too… We're even."

* * *

Eragon lay on his back and was watching single leaves slowly circle their way down from the golden treetop. The sky above the tree was cloudless, and the sun had mustered as much strength as it could at this time of the year. The leaf he was focused on momentarily would certainly land on his face, and Eragon laughed quietly. He had never known that he liked autumn so much, but there could not be a more beautiful season than this.

His head rested comfortably on Murtagh's lap, who was sitting upright, his back against the stem. Gentle hands were playing with Eragon's hair and now came to rescue him from the leaf.

They had not talked much and simply eaten in silence, exchanging a small smile or an affectionate glance every once in a while. But the peaceful, glowing nature around them now made Eragon remember something that he wanted to share with the person so dear to him.

"Murtagh?"

"Here's one." The answer came low and warm.

Eragon overstretched his neck a bit so he could look at Murtagh, but quickly decided against it, as it was rather painful. "There's something I would like to tell you."

"Then I guess there's something that I want to hear."

Eragon inhaled deeply. It would be difficult to describe what was on his mind. "You know, that day when Galbatorix thought that torture would not be enough and sent those men… it was… they caught me by surprise… I did not know such agony existed. And-"

"Eragon." Murtagh had stiffened and his voice was both shocked and miserable. "I… Why do you think about the rape now? Wa-Was it something I did? Because I didn't mean to." He talked faster and more agitatedly. "Never! All I wanted was to give you some pleasure, show you what it can be like. You have to tell me if it's too much, I-"

"No!" Eragon sat up quickly and took Murtagh's hands in his own. "No, you did nothing wrong." He smiled apologetically at his brother who was clearly suffering mental anguish. "Actually, I wanted to talk about something positive; it's just that the preface is not so nice."

Murtagh swallowed hard, expression only slowly relaxing. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!" Eragon squeezed the hands and kissed him briefly. "Let me tell you. So, anyway, as horrible as it was in the beginning, it got even worse. I did not know that that was possible… but yes, it was. At some time in the night I gave up. Not willingly. But something inside of me broke. Something died? I don't know. At least it felt like it. And certainly I_ wanted_ to die."

Eragon observed the sad eyes of Murtagh and knew his probably looked the same. "But I didn't. I know I had given up fighting, yet then… something happened. I had been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. Whenever I was aware of my surroundings I said my prayers and my goodbye to the world and got weaker and weaker. Until… well, it's hard to explain. Please don't think I'm crazy."

"I won't. Ever!" The sad face was now an earnest one. Interested. And deeply affectionate.

Eragon felt better. "All of a sudden my thoughts turned to my childhood. I saw myself – as a child – although I'm not really sure if I ever looked like that. But I knew it was me. And then… there was someone else. Maybe an angel…" His voice faltered. "I never believed in angels, yet it must certainly have been one. It was a woman. Beautiful. Full of love somehow. She smiled at me and for a moment I forgot everything." Eragon shook his head slowly. "It was all over in an instant. But somehow I could not die afterwards. No matter how bad it got, something kept me alive. It was as if a small fire burned inside of me. A fire that they could not extinguish."

Eragon's blurred vision cleared and he was startled to see a tear run down Murtagh's cheek. "Murtagh, what's wrong? What did I say?"

"Eragon," it was only a whisper, "that was not an angel. That was... more. The woman was your mother. _Our_ mother."

"What?" Eragon's voice broke. "Mother? How is that possible?"

"It is the only memory I have of her. Selena smiling at me is my guardian in the worst of times. She makes me want to live, too." Murtagh cupped Eragon's face with both hands. "I had access to your mind in that night for a short moment and I tried to send you that image. I wished fervently that she could help you when I couldn't."

Warmth was spreading through Eragon's body and he was slightly dizzy again. Selena! He knew it had been more than just an image. She had been there with him, fighting with him. Now he had learned that she had been summoned to his side by Murtagh and his chest tightened. It had been his mother and his brother who had saved his life that night.

He felt as if he was not able to breathe and readily accepted Murtagh's open arms. He pressed his face into the dark hair and began to cry without knowing if he was sad or happy.


	26. Progress

**A/N: **I hope that Eragon daring to do this is not too unrealistic. It's just that at some point in my story he has to face his experiences and yeah… here's part of it. Now read!

**Reviews:**

**-Jack Skellington's Mistress: **I'm sorry, I couldn't :( see A/N of the last chap

**-Tears Falling Freely:** "Certain parts"? What could you mean by that? xD

**-animeluva713:** I'm also waiting for this stuff xD and I'm really happy that I'm not the only crazy person out there.

**-orene treke: **To be honest, I don't know yet… there's a gap in my notes coming up quickly and I still have to figure out what will happen there… well, I got three hours of my Spanish class tomorrow, that should be enough time to ponder about this. xD

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole: **I'm such a weak fluff lover. I don't think I'll ever manage to write anything without it ;)

**-Drowned Hopes: **Shaeldryn plus cute equals very intense love affair. ;)

**-Semjaza:** Uh, uhm, err... xD

* * *

**Progress**

3rd Hunting Moon

* * *

The sun had just passed its zenith when they decided to go back home. Eragon felt closer to Murtagh than he had ever before, as if a silent and unseen bond that had been building for a while was now surfacing. He had no doubt that Murtagh felt it, too, although he was deep in thought at the moment, scuffling through the leaves on the ground. Eragon walked next to him, too occupied with all that happened this day to start a conversation. When his brother addressed him he nearly jumped out of surprise.

"You know this can't go on forever." Murtagh was very serious.

Eragon sighed. That was one of the things he constantly ignored. "Yes… but I don't like thinking about it."

"Me neither," Murtagh shrugged, "but maybe we should start by working up what has happened in the last months…"

"I don't like thinking about times when you were my enemy!" That was truly a horrible thought.

Murtagh put an arm around Eragon's shoulder and gave him a small kiss on the temple. "I don't only _don't like_ it, I hate it." He stepped away again, folding his arms while walking. "I guess what bothers me most is… how were you captured? You're mighty when you're not…well, like now." he waved a hand dismissingly. "Even more so when you have your magic. I never thought anyone besides me or the king could overcome that. I mean, there's also your very deadly blue lady."

Eragon grunted. "You like being stronger than me, don't you?" He meant it half in joke, half in earnest.

Murtagh smiled. "I'm older. If I was weaker, I'd feel really bad." He turned serious again. "No, truth is that I've learned some rather bad stuff. 'Dark magic' some call it. You can't do much with elvish knowledge against it."

"Unfortunately not. So, do you think there are others that the king has taught?"

Murtagh narrowed his eyes. "Sure, he's got a small army of magicians… but you're more powerful than they are. What happened in the north, Eragon? Saphira has hinted something, and likewise has the king, but it still doesn't make sense to me."

Eragon was silent for a while. Murtagh did not know. Was that good or bad? "A new shade."

"_What?"_ Murtagh stared at him in disbelief. "That can't be, I would know."

Eragon shrugged uncomfortably. "Apparently you don't. I've thought about it for some time, but it can't be anything else. I can't tell you much, though. He was there only for the fight and for blocking my magic – that _hurt_, by the way. He left right after that. And I also can't really judge his strength. The day before, Saphira and I had fought a small division of empire troops and were both weakened and injured. I don't know what would have happened if we had been rested and fit." He felt cold rise inside of him. "Although… I hate to admit it, but he would still have had a chance, I think."

Murtagh grabbed the twig of a hazel bush and broke it violently into several pieces. "But that's impossible. I'm neither deaf, nor blind, nor stupid, nor whatever. It's… Of course Galbatorix doesn't trust me, I'm not my father - _our _father, for that matter – but training a shade in secrecy for so long that he gets as powerful as you describe him… these are bad news."

"Bad news herald a bad future." Eragon had a lump in his throat. He had closed his eyes to reality for too long, concentrating only on his relationship with Murtagh. In the world outside there was still a war, there was still a tyrant subjugating the people of Alagaësia. Somewhere Nasuada and Arya were still fighting, together with all of the Varden, just as he also should. He wondered what they knew about his whereabouts. Did they know he had been captured? Did they maybe think he was dead? His disappearance would certainly have increased the Varden efforts to get hold of Murtagh. He was Galbatorix' man on the battlefield, the most powerful weapon the king had...

Eragon could not suppress a sob and felt tears blur his vision. He wiped his eyes angrily. Suddenly Murtagh was there and pulled him into an embrace. Eragon heard him murmur sounds of comfort into his ear, but could not make out what he was saying. After a while he freed himself from his brother's arms, somewhat mad at himself for being so emotional. But at the moment he saw only the darkest of futures ahead. "What shall we do? I can't stay and hide here forever and also it can't be too long anymore until the king calls for you. I can't let you fight the Varden, but above all _I_ can't fight _you_." Eragon was desperate and knew it shone through in his voice. Very quietly he added: "I can't imagine being without you, not even for one day."

Murtagh stood to his left, arms hanging at his side, looking sad but resolute. "I don't know what we can do. But I will not let anything come between us; I've waited far too long for you. I can't come with you to the Varden – both they and the king will probably do anything they can to kill me then. Of course I can't fight you, that's absurd. But also I can't run for it, because I can't leave you alone in this conflict… You're right, it is a rather bad future. However," his voice was rising, "I don't think we should give up on hope yet. You and me _and_ our dragons. Not just two Riders, but also the blood bond… Don't tell me it's not worth anything." He looked around as if he was trying to convince a large audience. Eventually his eyes came to rest on the only person that was there. "I _really _don't know what we can do, but let's start out small, one step after the other. First of all you need to hold a sword again."

Eragon smiled half-heartedly. "Are you not supposed to be the pessimistic one of us? The one who doesn't speak much?"

Murtagh chuckled. "You're right yet another time. But if you're so gloomy…"

* * *

Murtagh splashed the ice-cold water on his face and rubbed it along his neck before he kicked the bucket back into the well. He felt a few drops run down his back and shivered. The light was fading rapidly and he hurried over to the house. He had been sparring all afternoon with Eragon and was feeling the strain of it. He could hardly imagine how exhausted the younger one must be, but Eragon had insisted to fight until he could literally not hold the sword any longer.

Eragon had gone inside about two hours ago and Murtagh had busied himself looking after the dragons. It was not like they needed him to, but Thorn and Saphira were united in voicing their complaints about being bored and feeling neglected. They had come to the conclusion that Breoch was not the centre of the word, after all, and that the leisure activities for dragons were rather limited. Murtagh had ignored their protests completely, knowing they were not serious about it. Instead he had begun scrubbing their scales where he knew they liked it best and once they had stopped chattering, he had introduced them to the more urgent problem of finding a way to get out of the whole affair nicely. That had caused an immediate silence.

The Rider himself had not been able to stay focused on the topic for long. His thoughts had wandered back to the sparring and he could not help but admire the determination and effort Eragon had put into it – and the beautiful body he knew to be underneath those clothes that had been drenched in sweat.

It had quickly led to remembering this morning, which still amazed Murtagh. Eragon had surprised him in more than one way… it was simply overwhelming.

Murtagh realized that he had been standing in front of the main door for minutes and swiftly stepped inside. He went to the kitchen, noticed everything to be untouched and grabbed some vegetables and beef with the purpose to cook a stew. While it was simmering, he walked upstairs and found his brother fast asleep on the blanket, completely dressed, his boots still on his feet, which were hanging over the side of the bed. Shaking his head, Murtagh went over to him and pulled off the shoes, turned him on the bed and pulled at the blanket to cover Eragon with it. Then he started a fire and returned downstairs. During the hour that the contents of the little cauldron were boiling he tried to concentrate.

A new shade. It was yet another problem on the long list in his head. But one to deal with at a later point in time. The more imminent future was worrying him the most. What should he do? He was sure he could get Eragon out of the king's reach safely, but he could not go with him. At the same time he could not stay behind, either. This was hell.

Automatically he started thinking once more of something less negative. Would Eragon let him come as close again tonight? Murtagh was craving it.

With a sigh he grabbed a loaf of bread and the stew and went back to his brother. He did not like waking him, but Eragon had to eat.

* * *

Eragon twitched his cheek. A really annoying fly was bugging him, landing again and again on his face. All he wanted to do was sleep, but the beast would not let him. There it was again, and he had enough. He raised his hand and let it fall down, hoping to kill the insect. Shortly before he had half-consciously estimated to make contact, his hand was being grabbed and he heard a bewildered deep voice: "Don't _beat_ me, for fate's sake. I'm just trying to wake you."

Eragon opened his eyes and saw Murtagh right in front of his face, one corner of the mouth slowly turning upwards. He must have been kissing him. "Oh." He tried to sit up, but every muscle in his body screamed in protest. "Ouch. I'll never be able to move again… Sorry for the attempted slapping, I thought you were a fly." Eragon laughed quietly. "What are you thinking, waking me from my well-deserved sleep?"

Murtagh moved swiftly behind his back and seated himself on the mattress. Suddenly Eragon felt two strong hands on his shoulders, massaging him gently. Groaning contentedly he leaned back and enjoyed the treatment.

"Use your nose, brother, then you'll be able to answer that question on your own."

Eragon sniffed the air and unbidden his stomach grumbled audibly. "Mhmm, I smell… meat, onions and… cabbage?" Whatever it was, his mouth was watering.

"Correct. But you missed the potatoes and carrots. I know you have to sleep; however, I'd rather not see you starve during the night." Murtagh's thumbs wandered down the spine, rubbing away all tension.

"I agree that starving is not the best of things. But I can't get up now." Eragon was more than reluctant to leave the skilful hands.

"You want me to get it for you?" Murtagh pinched Eragon's back. "I don't think so."

"Fine, then don't move!" Eragon glanced over his shoulders threateningly and got up as quickly as his aching body allowed. He limped to the fireside, filled a bowl with the stew and took a mouthful water before he returned to the bed. He positioned himself right were he had sat previously and shrugged his shoulders as a signal for Murtagh to continue.

Instead, Murtagh started to chuckle. "Oh, so I am supposed to coddle you some more, but you didn't even bring anything to eat for me? Has anyone ever taught you manners?"

Eragon had not thought about getting food for Murtagh at all and was glad his brother did not see his face. "I figured you had already eaten… Wait, I'm getting you some." But he was pressed down forcefully and could not get up.

"Nah, I can eat later. Go ahead, fill your stomach while I take care of your shoulders and back some more… You're crazy fighting as much on your first day."

Eragon shook his head. "In a real battle I can't just stop and say 'Hey, I'm tired, let's continue tomorrow'. Don't worry, I can handle it. Especially with such a massage… By the way, the stew is delicious, that was a good idea." He meant it and was savouring every mouthful.

"I'm glad," Murtagh replied, "but I think, hungry as you are, even old leather would taste good."

Eragon smiled. Murtagh did so much for him all of the time. He had the very bad feeling that he actually missed most of it. And there were also the things that his brother did _not_ do. Things Eragon knew the older one desired and wanted badly, but repressed constantly. All because of him. Because Murtagh did not want to hurt or push him. Eragon felt more than a bit guilty and the rest of his meal passed in silence.

When he was done he put the bowl aside and turned around, having prepared a few words to say. But first there were Murtagh's lips on his own and he decided that his plan could certainly wait. Eagerly he sank into the kiss, relieved about everything that postponed his intentions.

After a while Murtagh broke the contact and watched him affectionately. "Feeling good now?"

Eragon was rather nervous, but lied successfully. "Definitely. Who wouldn't, being pampered like this?"

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "You don't want me to? I could be all nasty and mean, you know, I've got enough experience with that." However, at the moment he did not look like he was able to be anything but loveable.

"No, don't." Eragon shook his head and lowered his gaze. Don't be a coward, he told himself, for a change Murtagh deserved a treat, too. "I… err, I wanted to tell you something. That what you did this morning… I really liked it. I have never… well..." He knew he was blushing again and wanted to slap himself. "I have never felt anything like that before. That was… strange at first, I admit. But better than… I don't know. Better than pastries? I know that's pathetic, but so far pastries have always caused the best sensations in my life… _what?_" He stared at Murtagh, who was guffawing, holding his stomach with both hands.

It took a few moments until Murtagh calmed down enough to speak coherently. Wiping away tears from his eyes and still red in the face he eyed Eragon incredulously. "Pastries? _Pastries_?" He laughed again, but could control himself quickly this time. "You are hilarious. One day you'll kill me with some of those things you say."

"What? I just tried to explain _how_ good that felt," Eragon defended himself sheepishly. "It was the first thing that came to my mind to compare it with, it's-"

"Oral sex, Eragon, it's called oral sex. And I'm very glad that you've liked it so much, but please, _please_, don't compare it with a pie." Suddenly the humour vanished from his eyes and was replaced by lustfulness. "I would gladly do it again, you know. It's not something that only you enjoy…" Murtagh's voice had turned husky.

Eragon swallowed and averted his brother's eye. Actually that was just what he wanted. He felt wonderfully relaxed and imagining Murtagh doing that with him another time was… his heart began to speed up. _No_! He had decided on something else and he did not want to waver now. "No." He saw Murtagh look at him doubtfully and proceeded. "_I_ want to do that. _I_ want to do… oral sex."

Murtagh's expression overshadowed rapidly. "No, you don't. I have no idea why you're saying this right now, but I know that you don't want that."

Eragon did not like the older Rider determining what he wanted or not. He shook his head vehemently. "You're not in my mind, how would you know? And I'm sure you'd like it."

Murtagh brought his face very close to Eragon. "This is not about what I like," he hissed, "and this is also not about a virgin who wants to make his first experiences. I would not say 'no' then. But you have been raped, Eragon!" He got louder and louder. "Even if you have not told me, I guessed a long time ago that they've forced their dirty dicks down your throat and doubtlessly made you swallow. Don't tell me you _want_ it!"

Eragon felt worse by the second. Of course Murtagh was right and he did not really want it – although he was curious after seeing his brother enjoy it so much. But now he had chosen to fight his memories and also to return at least some of the pleasure that he was experiencing with the older one. Yet it was hard enough as it was and he did not need the other one to talk him out of it. "Can't you see that I'm trying to replace those horrible memories with pleasant ones?" He was almost pleading.

Murtagh's voice was gentle again. "I understand that well enough, little one, but I'm sure that it won't be enjoyable for you… What else is behind this? Could it be that you feel the odd need to repay me?"

Eragon thought for a while and then decided to go for the truth. "That's part of it, but-"

"No! Eragon, no!" Murtagh tore at his dark mane in desperation. "Where do you get these ideas from? You don't have to do anything the like. I am happy. Do you have any reason to doubt that? I don't want you to do anything that you do not truly want!"

Eragon felt his chest tighten. Murtagh could not know that it was his earnest concern that wiped away all remaining doubts. "Won't you let me try?" he asked in a low voice. "How am I supposed to get rid of the pictures in my head if not now and with you?"

"I… I don't really know what to think of it. You've been honest with me, so I'll be honest with you. Yes, it is something I yearn for. And your reasons do make sense to a certain degree. But I can't stand the thought of being the one who makes you miserable."

Murtagh's eyes showed a mix of powerful emotions, which prompted Eragon to embrace his brother. "What if I promise to stop when it gets too much?" he asked in a whisper. "And I'll never blame you for anything, you know that!"

Murtagh was quiet for a long while. "Alright," he said finally, "although I really don't like how this has come about."

"Thank you." Eragon was relieved. The part he had considered easier had turned out to be very difficult, so it could only get better now. He began by kissing Murtagh, relaxing slowly when they found back into their routine. He was thankful to notice that Murtagh did not contain himself, which would have hindered the whole affair.

Trembling slightly, Eragon moved his hands downwards. He had made up his mind to get right to it; he did not want his anxiety to grow any more. However, he was stopped by Murtagh's broad belt, which he could not unbuckle, jittery as he was. With steady hands Murtagh came to his aid and opened his pants as well. "Thanks," Eragon muttered a bit breathlessly, "I guess I'm a little nervous."

"Calm down," he heard Murtagh's low voice, which was slightly hoarse again. "I'm afraid that you might drop down dead if you're so tense." The older chuckled under his breath.

Slowly Eragon moved away from Murtagh, who was seated with his back against the headboard, and pulled at his pants. With a little gasp he observed the result. Very conscious of Murtagh watching his every move closely, Eragon reached out with his right and touched the now unprotected erection carefully. He felt very soft skin on a very hard organ – quite like his own, actually. Eragon smiled inwardly. What had he expected? There was one noticeable difference, though. His own cock erect like this had always been a sign of his arousal. Now this sight was the _cause _of his arousal. He was fascinated.

He leaned forward and kissed Murtagh again to prevent being surveyed any further. Meanwhile his hand slowly explored the object it was holding. Not knowing how to do this best, Eragon chose to go for what he himself liked. He closed his hand around the shaft firmly and began to slide it up and down. He heard a low rumble deep in Murtagh's chest and slowly increased both speed and intensity. He was rewarded with a loud moan that made him shiver.

He let go of Murtagh's lips as well as his cock and moved backwards a little, at the same time lowering himself. With closed eyes he placed a tiny kiss on the head of Murtagh's cock. Listening very intently to all that his own body had to say, Eragon noted that up to now he was not disgusted at all. This was Murtagh. This was different. So far, this was good.

Without opening his eyes he moved his mouth along the shaft. He was hardly doing anything, yet he could feel Murtagh quiver. Realizing that, for some strange reason, he was managing to bring this about satisfied him deeply.

On returning to his starting point he opened his eyes. Was he nervous? Certainly. Was he afraid? A little. Did he want to try this? Yes!

With one swift movement he took the tip of Murtagh's cock in his mouth and let his tongue explore it. Slowly he took in some more but stopped when he felt faintly nauseous. He paused with everything until the feeling had passed and then returned to letting his tongue play with the erection. When he moved his head a little he accidentally scraped the shaft with his teeth and he stopped again, hoping that it had not hurt. However, Murtagh's quiet and occasional moans were now a low growl and Eragon had already learned that this was a sure sign of the older one's arousal. He liked that? He could get more of it.

Encouraged, Eragon moved his head around Murtagh's cock again, examining it both with his tongue and lips. Every now and then he bit down very carefully, relishing the sounds he could produce indirectly. He then tried to take Murtagh in further, but immediately felt as if he had to vomit and retreated quickly. However Murtagh had managed to swallow him completely – it was nothing Eragon could imitate. Instead, he grabbed the end of the shaft with his hand and moved it simultaneously with his mouth. Apparently that was received very well. Murtagh's hips began to move and Eragon noticed the older one holding on to the sheets, hands turning white.

"Eragon, I-I think it is…e-enou-enough." Murtagh was gasping and hard to understand. "Le-let me finish my-myself-"

Eragon held up his free hand, signalling for the other one to be quiet. He wanted to end this properly; he had to know where his limits were. Therefore he did not let go of Murtagh, but amplified his efforts. The taste in his mouth suddenly changed and he figured it must be very late precum. The nauseous feeling returned and Eragon concentrated on the fact that it was indeed Murtagh in his mouth. Protective and gentle Murtagh, who had no intentions of harming him. He forced himself to continue.

Within seconds he felt Murtagh's cock beginning to throb and with a stifled groan Murtagh came. Eragon willed himself to stay where he was and swallow, although he was choking. He felt sweat break out everywhere on his shaking body and closed his eyes, focussing hard. Murtagh ejaculated for what seemed like eternity, but then finally it was over.

Eragon removed his head and shifted to the left, lying down on his side, his back to Murtagh. He needed just a minute to compose himself. He felt Murtagh behind him who placed a hand very gently on his head and fondled his hair. Eragon was deeply grateful that he did not force him to turn around right now.

After a few minutes he felt better and sat up slowly. He had done it. He had really done it. He was immensely proud of himself for several reasons, and it must have shown on his face when he looked at Murtagh, because the older one's expression turned from very worried to a small smile.

"You did it!" Murtagh's voice was unreadable.

"I did." Eragon grinned slightly himself, feeling light-headed. "And I feel... good!" He bit his lower lip. "I'm sorry, though, that I've got no idea how to do it properly." Had he really _bit_ Murtagh? That must have _hurt_!

"Shut up, silly," Murtagh now laughed quietly. "I don't think I've ever enjoyed it as much, although I was so worried about you."

Eragon was astonished. "But I don't know how these things are done, that was more… try and error, I guess."

Murtagh kissed him briefly, still laughing. "You don't know? Either you're a damn good liar," he joked, "or, rather more likely, you're a natural."

Eragon felt his grin widen. "If you say so…"

"Believe me, I know." Murtagh pulled him into his lap and brought his mouth to Eragon's ear. "Am I now allowed to take care of you?" he asked in a whisper. "You'd really deserve it, you know."

All Eragon could do was nod his approval before Murtagh's tongue made him forget the world around him.


	27. Wine

**Reviews:**

**-animeluva713: **I'm just as impatient, believe me. See bottom of the chap.

* * *

**Wine**

4th Hunting Moon

* * *

Murtagh squirmed a little. He was having a very hot dream, in which someone was taking care of his arousal and he imagined Eragon to be the person. He recalled last night and remembered how he had been pleasured by the sensitive mouth. The swift tongue had played with him, causing the wildest sensations which now bubbled to the surface again. He moaned, but only when the sound reached his ear did he realize that he was not sleeping.

With a gasp Murtagh opened his eyes. It was not mere dreaming - he was indeed being pleasured again. His cock was very hard, almost the point of pain, and surrounded by something warm and wet. He raised his head a little and saw Eragon between his legs. At the moment the blond was apparently testing out how far he could take Murtagh in, and was completely focused on his task, not noticing that the older one had woken up.

Suddenly Murtagh felt teeth scratch his most sensitive parts and with a groan he sank back into the pillows. His erection was beginning to throb – how long had Eragon been doing this?

The thought that Eragon had come up with this on his own, had pulled down the pants while Murtagh had still been asleep and had started to attend to his need was almost too much. Eragon had no idea what he was doing, yet his inexperience turned Murtagh on more than he had thought possible.

Again he felt Eragon's teeth, followed by a mumbled "Shorry!" and his whole body began to shake. "Doesn't… matter." He relished this. Last night had been incredible, and now he knew that it had only been a foretaste. His cock was about to burst. Murtagh tried to hold back some more, to extend the time of pleasure, but it was in vain. His hips jerked and with several thrusts he emptied himself into Eragon's throat, groaning, his vision blinded by exploding spots of light.

Only when he was done did he start worrying about Eragon. Was the little one alright? He straightened up and observed a very smug looking, unbelievably handsome young man smiling up at him, and he felt his heart lighten. "Come here," he whispered, "I want to kiss you." Eragon slid upwards elegantly and snuggled up into his arms. Murtagh kissed him gently, tasting the stimulating flavour not only of his brother, but also of himself. His hand laced through the soft hair again and again, while his tongue caressed Eragon's lips and explored the other's mouth.

Eragon enjoyed the tenderness and for once he was an absolute passive kisser. Instead, he responded by reaching underneath Murtagh's shirt and stroking his chest.

_Rider? Can I talk to you for a moment? _Thorn sounded deeply amused.

Murtagh flinched. What was Thorn doing in his head right now? How had he gotten there? _Sure…_

_Is immense pleasure another one of those situations when you're shields are down? _the dragon asked innocently. _Because I remember what you've told me about dreaming and pain…_

Murtagh was embarrassed. _Maybe…well, probably, yes. But you're not eavesdropping on me, are you? Don't you have any manners?_

_I'm_ your _dragon, who's supposed to have taught me? Anyhow, I was not able to overhear you. You like Eragon's mouth around you a lot, heh? And you humans also seem to enjoy some pain during the act – I wonder what that feels like? I-_

_Thorn! Shut up! _Murtagh wanted to slap his dragon, useless or not. _Don't ever do that again. This is private. Human stuff. No dragons wanted._

_Oh, if you say so. _Thorn obviously did not give a damn. _But it was my turn to watch you and give Saphira an account of what you're doing – usually it's the other way round – and… well, never mind. She's coming back right now and wants me to let you know that the young woman is on her way here. So maybe you should get dressed soon, although I know you're hoping to play around some more…_ With a chuckle Thorn retreated from Murtagh's mind.

The Rider realized that Eragon was staring at him, one eyebrow raised, a slight smile playing around his lips. "Thorn," Murtagh tried to explain himself, hoping that his face would not give him away.

Eragon's smile widened. "I can hardly believe it, but… Murtagh, are you _blushing_?"

"Never!" But Murtagh felt his cheeks burn. Thorn had paid close attention… and was going to tell Saphira. "It's just... Thorn doesn't have any manners – at all."

Eragon began to sing "You are blushing, you are blushing."

"Yes, yes, I am," Murtagh laughed. "So what? You do it all the time." He pulled his brother close again to prevent any further teasing. He kissed him shortly and then told him that Rynia was coming. "And perhaps I should get dressed for that occasion…"

Eragon grinned at the still bare region of Murtagh's body. "Perhaps…" Then he bit his lip. "Did you like waking up today?" he asked quietly.

"No, it was horrible," Murtagh replied ironically while he put on his pants, "and the fact that I came in a matter of minutes proves that… Silly Eragon," he tousled through his brother's hair affectionately, "I loved it, _loved_ it, and you should prepare for my response… Let's go, I can hear the gate." He jumped out of the bed and heard Eragon follow him.

"What do you think she wants?"

Murtagh shrugged his shoulders as they were both putting on their boots. "I have no idea."

Eragon paused for a moment. "Somehow I don't have a good feeling…"

They rumbled down the stairs and Murtagh tore open the front door just when Rynia arrived, causing the young woman to jump.

She placed a hand on her trembling chest and only slowly did her frightened expression turn into a perky smile. "And I thought your dragons were the scary creatures around here."

Murtagh smiled back at her. "I'm sorry; we don't usually run around and frighten beautiful ladies in the morning."

She tugged some curls that had gone wild behind her ear and focused on Eragon for a moment. "You look a lot better… but not only on the outside?"

Eragon's face went soft and he shook his head slightly. "No, not only on the outside."

She nodded contentedly as if she had not expected anything else. "You probably wonder why I'm here." Without waiting for an approval she continued. "First – this." She handed over a small jar which Murtagh weighed in his hand. "Honey, the first of the year. I thought you might like some."

Eragon grabbed the jar from Murtagh's hand and kissed it. "Honey is the best, thanks a lot... But why do I have the feeling that it's mostly a pretence?"

"Because it is." Rynia was serious now. "There was a stranger in Breoch yesterday evening. And he was asking about you. Or rather, he was asking people what they knew about the people living here at the estate, what they had seen and the like."

Murtagh felt his body tense and he caught himself studying the dark corners of the courtyard. "Do you happen to know what they told him?"

Rynia shrugged. "Not exactly, but I know the villagers. They don't like you, but they like nosy strangers even less. Probably they only told him the obvious: That there's two young men living here… and two dragons. But I guess that makes your identity quiet self-explanatory." She smiled nervously.

Eragon grunted somewhat amused. "Yes, that's true. Can you tell us what the man looked like?"

Rynia put her left index finger to her mouth and thought briefly. "Inconspicuous. He really tried to look like he's a villager himself – which is ridiculous, considering that Breoch has roughly three hundred inhabitants and everybody knows everyone. The man was tall, lean, with brown hair that he wore in a ponytail… That's about all I can tell you, because he did not talk to me. Oh, and I think he has left, because Alfred the fisherman came home from Lake Tüdosten this morning and said he had met him on the way."

Murtagh stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. "Thank you. But am I right that now your parents like it even less if you come here?" When Rynia nodded he added: "I thought so, and they're right. Go home and don't come back. We'll look after ourselves. And please tell your grandmother our thanks, too."

Eragon suddenly pushed him away and hugged Rynia, which surprised her as much as Murtagh. "Take care, Rynia. Thank you – for everything."

She smiled at him. "You're welcome." Her gaze flickered to Murtagh and then back. "Be careful. I don't know what this is about, but the war has already caused too many deaths. I'll pray for you." With a little curtsey she turned around and left.

The Riders silently watched her leave and only when she was out of sight did they move.

Murtagh turned to the dragons. "You heard her. Thorn, do you recognize the pattern?"

_Sure, the mad man is not the most creative person._

"What pattern?" Eragon stepped to Saphira and they both watched Murtagh curiously.

"It's always the same." Murtagh began to pace up and down. "The king sends someone to inspect the situation before the official messenger comes. So now he will soon know that I'm not crying at your deathbed and moreover that Saphira is here as well."

Eragon eyed him pensively. "With messenger you mean the one who'll call you back to service?" Murtagh nodded. "When do you think he'll get here?"

Murtagh paused in his stride. "Depends, but certainly not tomorrow, probably not even next week. The spies always come early, Galbatorix likes to plan ahead."

Eragon was quiet for a while and Murtagh figured that he must be talking with Saphira. Finally, Eragon turned to him. "So whatever we'll do, we must decide before long. However, Saphira and I think that we can as well stay here to prepare. Running now would start a chase we'd like to postpone until we've made some sort of plan."

"I agree," Murtagh nodded and resumed his pacing. "But I don't like this. That Galbatorix intends to call me back means that the Varden are moving again and thus the empire troops are getting ready. Things will be happening soon that I cannot foresee…" He noticed Eragon steadying himself at Saphira's flank, looking crestfallen. "What did I say? What's wrong?"

With one hand Eragon held his stomach and his voice was choked. "It's my fault. The Varden are running into a trap. Because of me." The rest came out in a whisper. "_I _am a traitor."

Murtagh stopped and looked at his brother in bewilderment. "What are you saying? That's bullshit."

"No," Eragon shook his head sadly, "I've told you I had given up at some point. Actually I even remember Galbatorix' sneer when I informed him of all the Varden hideouts and future plans that I knew of. His foul breath was on my face, his hand… nearly crushed me. I told him everything. But the warriors did not leave me alone afterwards." He looked down to the ground and Murtagh thought he saw a teardrop land in the dust.

"You are _alive_, Eragon, not a traitor." He wanted to embrace Eragon but knew he should better leave him alone. "You're of more use to the Varden now than you would be dead." He stomped his feet. "No one, do you hear me, _no one _resists Galbatorix. Sooner or later he breaks everyone."

"But with Saphira it was different, Murtagh. Have you never thought about that? I never gave _her_ away. So it _is_ possible to resist. But I betrayed the Varden… I should have died."

Murtagh could not keep the distance between them any longer. He grabbed Eragon's shoulders and shook him forcefully for a moment. "You cannot be serious. If you were dead, Saphira would be, too. She is part of you, part of your soul. Don't compare her to your knowledge of Varden secrets. You are not a traitor!"

Saphira raised her tail and stroked Eragon gently over the head. Murtagh was happy to notice that she was on his side.

"I wish it was different." Eragon sighed. "But it's not as easy as that. Only on the day that the king lies dead in the dust at my feet will I feel better about this." A fire was burning in the depths of his eyes.

Murtagh picked up on the slight change of topic. "But that is what we'll do in the end. Kill the bastard. _He _is the bad guy. Not you or me. But we, we will be his bane."

Eragon nodded slowly. "Yes, we will. One day. But first I need to get rid of my sore muscles and the weakness in my arms. Let's fight."

Without warning he attacked, and he fought even more fiercely than the day before.

* * *

They had sparred for about two hours and Eragon thought he would pass out any second. Murtagh had offered to stop several times, but he had declined. There was so little time and so much to do. He simply ignored the fact that going over the top would not help. Fighting felt good. Finally he was able to do something actively that was not useless for his case and where he felt his efforts physically. And it occupied his mind. He did notice that Murtagh was more parrying than attacking, but it did not matter at the moment. The main point was to deliver blow after blow to get back into the routine.

Suddenly he stumbled and his vision blackened. He did not let go of the sword but sank to his knees, utterly exhausted.

"Enough now?" his brother asked him tauntingly.

Eragon was panting and nodded only instead of answering. His clothes were completely drenched in sweat and now that he was not moving anymore he felt a cold breeze that made him shiver.

"Let's take a bath." Murtagh held out a hand and helped him up. "I'll go and get us clean clothes, I'll be right back."

Eragon nodded again. A bath sounded good, but at the same time he dreaded the ice-cold river. However, if Murtagh went in, so would he.

Once Murtagh was back outside with a bundle of clothes under his arm they made their way to the small stream. By the time they had arrived, Eragon had turned very self-conscious. Undressing completely while it was still light outside was embarrassing. Murtagh had seen all of him by now, but always only in parts which had been a lot easier .

The dark-haired seemed to have no such scruples. Right in front of Eragon he took off his clothes until only the pale skin was left to cover the muscular, perfectly shaped body. Eragon swallowed and stared. A few days ago he had corrected his brother, saying that men were not beautiful. Now he was not so sure about the wording anymore.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Murtagh began to laugh at him. "Do you want to go swimming in your clothes?"

"No." He was a bit ashamed to have been caugt staring once more. Slowly he began to take his boots and shirt off, acutely aware that Murtagh was watching him.

"You don't want to me to look at you?" Murtagh had raised both eyebrows and was grinning.

Eragon nodded shyly and to his relief Murtagh turned around and walked quickly towards the river, slowing down noticeably when he made first contact with the water. Eragon undressed swiftly and followed, although he came to a full stop when his feet touched the wet. He envied Murtagh who was already in to his hip. Full of determination, Eragon willed his legs to sprint and dived under the surface once the water was deep enough. With a loud snort he went up again and decided to wash as quickly as possible. It was bitter cold.

He had his back to his brother and was lathering his upper body with a coarse soap when all of a sudden he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He flinched and then laughed nervously. "You scared me there."

"I'm sorry," Murtagh said quietly. "It's just… I haven't seen your back in a while. I'm _so_ sorry.

Eragon felt gentle fingers trace the length of his back in different patterns. "What are you sorry for?"

"Your back. You can't see it, but… it's scarred. Badly. Your skin was coming off in stripes and the flesh was torn, but I wish I would have been able to do more. I… I feel terrible. It will never fade completely."

Eragon turned around and cupped Murtagh's face with his hands. He stared into the melancholy eyes and spoke slowly, pronouncing every word distinctively. "As you said earlier: I'm alive. I don't care about my back. You saved me and you did your best, I'll always be grateful for that." His lips touched Murtagh's and he kissed him softly.

Murtagh smiled sadly. "Still… I don't want those beasts to have left marks on you permanently."

"It's too late now to worry, Murtagh." Eragon let his right hand wander over Murtagh's chest, feeling the hard nipples. "Let's just leave it alone." He spread his fingers and applied some force while he moved his hand up and down. He knew exactly how to divert the older one.

Sure enough Murtagh's breathing sped up. "It's a bit cold here, don't you think?"

"It is," Eragon heard himself purr and wondered about his voice. "You know, if it wasn't so cold, I'd have the hardest arousal right now, seeing you naked like this…"

Murtagh grunted and pushed his hand away. "Eragon! Don't say that. Not here, not now." With an evident effort of willpower he turned around and waded to the riverbank. "Let's go home," he called over his shoulder.

Eragon grinned. Unnerving Murtagh was always worth memorizing.

On entering the house Murtagh headed straight for the stairs. Before he mounted them he glanced at Eragon. "Go and get us some bread and wine upstairs, will you?"

Eragon pretended to be outraged. "I'm not your servant!" Yet he was already on his way to the kitchen, only stopping when he heard his brother laugh.

"No, but you're my baby brother, born to worship me eternally."

"Shut up!" Eragon threw his wet clothes after Murtagh and hit him straight in the face. "See what happens?" Laughing himself he went to get the food and beverage. However, he could not decide which wine he wanted – the mansion was home to seven or eight different sorts. Spontaneously he took big gulps from several flagons until he decided on a strong, sweet red one. Already on his way upstairs he noticed that he should be careful with drinking. He was physically exhausted and had not eaten for a long time – he was slightly light-headed.

When he entered the room he saw Murtagh in an armchair in front of the blazing fireside, laid-back, watching him lazily. With two steps Eragon was at the neighbouring armchair and sat down, swinging the flagon seductively. "Want some?"

"Certainly." Slowly the dark-haired got up and found two richly adorned goblets. He handed one to Eragon who filled both to the rim and then returned to his chair.

Munching some bread and drinking more wine they lingered in front of the fire for an hour, both not in the mood to discuss any possible plans or problems. Instead, they talked about their dragons, mostly comparing and laughing about their different tics.

At some point Eragon felt how he was getting tired and fought against it forcefully. He had not forgotten what Murtagh had hinted at in the river – and also the announcement of some kind of 'response' to what he, Eragon, had done this morning. He wanted to go over to his brother, thus he got up and… tripped.

With one quick movement Murtagh had risen and caught him before he fell, laughing quietly. "Are you drunk, little one?"

"I don't know," Eragon answered truthfully. "It didn't feel like it when I was still sitting, but now…" Yet he did not care. At the moment he was only aware of Murtagh's hands on his arms and automatically his lips found their chapped counterparts. Eagerly his tongue joined in, asking for entrance which was granted immediately.

Shortly after, Eragon felt Murtagh's hands on his shoulders. With decisive strokes they wandered downwards and came to rest on his buttocks. When the older one squeezed him lightly he felt his blood heating up. "Do that again." Was that even his voice?

"What?" Murtagh asked naively between kisses. "That?" He tightened his grip on Eragon's butt again.

"Yeah," Eragon heard himself groan. "More." His was a bit dizzy, but all he wanted at the moment was more. His pants got tight between his legs and he reached for one of Murtagh's hands and placed it on his crotch. He saw the other's eyes question him and nodded. Then the strong hand began to stroke him tentatively and he grabbed for Murtagh's shoulders to steady himself. "Yes," he stammered, "like that."

Murtagh smiled a little. "Seems like the wine has gotten you horny, eh?" His voice was husky.

"Maybe a bit," Eragon replied while his hands now fumbled at Murtagh's belt. He wanted more!

"What are you doing?" Murtagh stopped rubbing the hardness in the pants and instead moved his hands upwards underneath Eragon's shirt, caressing tummy and chest.

With a small sound of triumph Eragon finally opened belt and pants and pulled them down. "Getting to the real good stuff… You know, I like you… I mean, down there. I like your cock!" With one quick grip he found out that Murtagh was just as hard as he was which turned him on even more.

"Oh, you do?" Murtagh gasped. "We-well, that's good, I guess."

"Mhmm," Eragon replied and turned around pressing his back against the older one's chest as well as his butt against the bare groin. A moan coming from Murtagh had him satisfied and he pushed his hips backwards some more. Feeling Murtagh's erection against his behind finally made him realize what he wanted that night. Understanding this made his heart race and his mouth go dry. Again Eragon rubbed his butt against Murtagh. Would the older one comply? Certainly. After all, Murtagh had wanted this for a long time already, right?

Eragon turned around again and stared into lustful eyes. This was the man he wished for. Now. "I want you," he whispered. "I want all of you."

Murtagh watched him for a moment. Then he smiled slightly and shook his head, his expression returning to a neutral, relaxed one. "You're drunk. The wine makes you say this."

"No," Eragon objected, "_I_ say this. _I_ want this."

"No, you don't." Murtagh pulled his pants back up, his hands shaky but his voice steady. "I think we should go to bed."

Eragon could not believe what was happening. Murtagh was rejecting him? That could not be true. He only wanted to treat him with care again. "What? No, I don't want to sleep. Stop protecting me. I know very well what I want." He tried to prevent Murtagh from closing his belt. "Don't!"

"Eragon." There was a cautionary note in the Murtagh's voice now. "Take your hand away. I'm not sleeping with you. We're going to bed now."

Eragon was getting mad with frustration. His hand actually left Murtagh's belt, but only to come to rest a few inches below, kneading what he felt there. Suddenly an iron grip was on his hand and removed it. A squeak of protest escaped Eragon. "You want it, too, I know that. You've been wanting it for a while."

"Yes, I do." Murtagh was serious. "You've found that out nicely. But not now, not when you're drunk."

This was going all wrong. "It was just a little bit of wine, you're only thinking I'm drunk, but I'm not, really." Eragon leaned forwards, trying to place a kiss.

He was pushed away in such a powerful manner that he tumbled backwards and fell. "Leave. Me. Alone!" Murtagh growled. "I don't want you close." With a glance at Eragon that was both furious and sad he stomped to the door.

Before Eragon was fully able to realize what had happened, Murtagh was gone. He stared at the open door for at least five minutes until slowly he began to understand that the older one would not come back. Eragon felt as if someone was throttling him. He heard his own sobs getting louder and louder and felt tears run down his cheeks. What had he done?

* * *

**A/N:** If you've read this far, you probably want them to have sex, right? xD Ha! and I'm a mean, evil author. No, actually I'm not. I just want to have enough space (that is, a whole chapter) for the matter. And that will be when? Right, next chapter. Although I must confess that I'm a bit scared…


	28. Love

**Warning: **Lemon (guy sex – my last warning!)

**A/N:** Here we go. Gosh, I'm sooo excited. Anyway, you might say it's a bit unorthodox. It's just that I'm trying to be somewhat realistic (as realistic as I can be as a female in this genre), and there is, after all, still the matter of rape. Moreover, I don't know how old you all are… but if you're having sex with a person you love and it is all new, then in 95 percent of the cases it won't be hardcore porn.

**Reviews:**

**-orene treke:** Originally I wanted to do 7 or 8 chapters at the most, but I kind of realized right away that I had to work on their relationship… and it has been a lot of fun.

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole:** I know, I know :hands over cookie: I hope you could manage this long!

**-animeluva713:** Here you go, miss, enjoy!

**-SparkyCasper:** Thank you! I'm glad you like it, because _I _like being able to share all this with people who can relate.

**-Jack Skellington's Mistress:** Okidoki (as I always say in German xD), remember the pm? This is what I had planned from the start. I'm sure that it is probably not what you had expected exactly, but I just thought that, after all, Eragon has no experience. There was no way of turning him into the perfect lover or, I don't know, someone who knows what he is doing. However, I really hope you can still enjoy it. Maybe, just maybe, you want to get your fan out again. ;)

* * *

**Love**

5th Hunting Moon

* * *

Murtagh shivered, but not because he was cold. He was lying on a bed of straw under an old woolen blanket, close enough to Thorn to be warm. He had woken up a little while ago and was now staring blankly at the barn door, which he had left ajar the previous night. Grey light entered the room through the opening and he could see the rain outside as well as hear it drum on the high roof. The weather matched his mood perfectly.

He knew for a fact that he could have had Eragon last night. His body had screamed to take what had been offered, but both his mind and heart had forbidden him to. Of course, he had slept with drunken people before, but Eragon was not just any guy that he desired. Instead, he had become his one and only: Eragon was his life now. And therefore he could never take advantage of him like that.

The last days had gone so well, their relationship had intensified in every way, and Murtagh thought that the rape got less and less important for his brother. However, he was sure that the act itself would be different. Even if Eragon's mind managed to push the memories back, his body would remember. Murtagh knew he had to come up with something for the moment when time was ripe.

His gaze shifted and came to rest on Saphira, who was sleeping peacefully not far away. The dragons had been very surprised by his appearance last night, but had refrained from bothering him with questions. He was very thankful for that.

He was not really sure how he should confront Eragon today. Act as if nothing had happened? Explain himself? Be mad still? He had planned to go scouting, obtain some information, and maybe even fly as far as Furnost and sneak into the town to learn some news. Perhaps it was a good idea to split these tasks between him and Eragon, to spend some time apart for once.

Suddenly the lighting conditions changed slightly and Murtagh looked back to the door. The opening had widened a bit and there was his brother, scanning the large, gloomy room in front of him. After a moment he discerned Murtagh's shape next to Thorn and came unsteadily closer. When he saw that Murtagh was awake he came to a halt a few feet away.

Without further thinking, Murtagh lifted the blanket invitingly and in an instant Eragon was there, cuddling close and burying his face in Murtagh's hair. His clothes were wet and so were the strands that Murtagh felt on his cheek. He put his arms around the lean frame gently and pulled him even closer, willing some of his body heat to pass over to his brother. Spend time apart? Stupidest idea he had had in a while. "How come you're already up?" he asked quietly.

"Well, so are you," Eragon pointed out. After a minute of silence he continued. "I… I did not sleep well. Hardly at all. And now that it got light outside I thought I'd go and look for you."

"I'm glad you did. I did not sleep well, either. I like it better having you in my arms." Murtagh wondered how he could have seriously considered still being mad at Eragon.

Eragon sighed deeply. "I want to apologize to you. I don't know why I did what I did-"

"It is red, sweet, and called wine." And made me nearly lose it, Murtagh added silently.

"True. Anyway, it was very wrong. If you're not pushing me, I don't think I should push you." Eragon 's face suddenly appeared in Murtagh's field of vision, sad eyes wanting him to understand and even more begging for forgiveness. "I'm a really lucky person to be with someone so sensible and so… self-controlled."

"It's alright, Eragon. I know what alcohol does to people." Murtagh laced his hand through the wet hair, untangling it. "It's just that… it's really hard for me, see? You are the most tempting person I've ever met in my life, and when you behave like you did last night… Please don't do that again, I don't think I can refrain from acting another time." He tried to smile encouragingly but failed.

"But you don't have to." Eragon's eyes were gleaming. "Because drunk or not, I meant it."

"You meant what?" Murtagh asked superfluously. He knew exactly what Eragon was talking about and felt his mouth go dry.

"I want to sleep with you." Eragon replied simply and waited for a reaction.

"... Are you sure?"

Their eyes were locked, unspoken emotions flowing freely.

The young Rider nodded his head solemnly. "Yes."

Murtagh swallowed. He could tell Eragon was serious, that he was not faking it. This was just going a bit faster than he had expected it to. "Am I allowed to object?" he asked with a nervous grin.

Eragon leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the tip of Murtagh's nose. "No. No objections, protest or opposition permitted. I hope you can live with that?" His eyes were sparkling with humour.

"As I don't have a choice, I guess I'll deal with it." He gave Eragon a kiss on the lips. "I don't think it'll kill me," he chuckled. Then a thought crossed his mind and he eyed his brother sceptically. "But you don't want to do it now, do you? Shouldn't you have a terrible hangover?"

Eragon dropped to the side and buried his head in the straw. "Don't remind me," he mumbled, "I feel like there's a whole mountain pressing down on my head. Never, ever wine again."

Murtagh laughed. "I wouldn't bet on that. Did you throw up?"

"No, why?"

"Oh oh." Murtagh laughed even harder. "Let me tell you: You have a horrible day ahead, with lots of headache and nausea. I say we postpone it."

Eragon grunted. "Agreed, right now is really not so good. But what can I do to feel better?"

"Sleep some more, get some fresh air – which I had planned for today anyway – and then maybe tonight, if you feel better, we can… do stuff."

Eragon raised his head once more and grinned. "I feel better already."

"Idiot." Murtagh hit him lightly over the head. "Let's rest another hour or two, shall we?" He saw Eragon nod and shift until he had his back to him. Automatically Murtagh moved close, until they lay like spoons, and placed a kiss on the other's neck.

While the younger one was able to relax and fall asleep almost right away, Murtagh lay awake, pondering about what was approaching so quickly. He needed to find a way to make this alright for Eragon.

* * *

Eragon pulled his cloak closer around himself. Now that all the excitement was over he began to feel the rain and wind that he was exposed to unprotected on Saphira's back. The only good thing was that his headache had long ago been washed and blown away. He turned his head and in the fading light he saw Murtagh on Thorn to his left, seemingly as uncomfortable as he was.

However, Eragon was triumphant. He had not known at first what to think about going to Furnost, but now that they had been there, he knew it had been the right thing to do. They had left the dragons in a nearby forest and put on shaggy clothing and then passed the gatekeeper of the town easily, pretending to be poor farmers. Once inside they had gathered as much information as possible, talking to people on the market and trying to eavesdrop on soldiers.

The empire troops were indeed moving to the western outskirts of the Beor Mountains, where Eragon knew a large host of the Varden would emerge sooner or later. He had felt worse and worse realizing just what was awaiting them, when all of a sudden they had stumbled upon a youth that Eragon had recognized. He did not know the boy's name but had seen him often enough in Nasuada's entourage. With what Murtagh called his 'unmistakable intuition' he had understood right away that the boy was there to spy as well.

Murtagh had disappeared from view and Eragon had grabbed the boy and pulled him into a dark alleyway, revealing himself. He had been gaped at for a prolonged period of time before the youth had managed to say something. Eragon had learned that the Varden thought him dead, although they did not know how it had come about.

He had instructed the boy to leave the town right away and to report to Nasuada or any other leading official he might meet that he was alive and would be with them again before long. He had explained that Galbatorix knew where the Varden army was and would strike as soon as they left the mountains, and that thus they had to change their plans completely. The boy had stared at him wide-eyed and scared, but nodded to all he had said and Eragon had a good feeling about him. He was sure that he would do exactly as told – it was just a matter of whether he would make it to the Varden or not, and, if so, whether he would get there on time.

Yet Eragon felt so much better now. There was actually a chance of averting the worst consequences of what he had told the king and it had him in high spirits.

Another gust of wind hit him and it felt as if the rain hammered directly on his skin. He wished to be home already, to get out of this, although flying on Saphira after so long a time was wonderful.

_/I'm going as fast as I can, little one./ _Saphira sounded slightly annoyed.

Eragon was startled. _I didn't say anything, did I?_

_/No, but I can feel how you're all jumpy_._ I can imagine that you're not very comfortable, but that's not all, is it?/_

_Uhm, what else might there be, Saphira? _Eragon's thoughts immediately turned to Murtagh and what they had planned for the night.

_/I'm just guessing here, but is the cause for you being so impatient maybe riding a red dragon?/ _She was amused now.

_Hmm, I don't think there's a reason to deny it, is there? _He wondered briefly how much he should tell her. _I like him, you know. And we're… err… kind of getting close._

_/Don't forget that you have my blessing, little one. I've not changed my opinion about him being good for you./ _A wave of warmth and gentleness radiated off the dragon.

Eragon felt so much affection for her in that moment that he was not able to put it into words. He simply leaned forward and embraced part of her strong neck, whispering _I love you_.

_/I love you, too. Look, there's the estate./_

Eragon straightened up again, but his eyesight could not rival Saphira's – all he saw was rain and more rain. So he just relied on his dragon and his mind wandered ahead.

What would happen once they were home? He had meant it, truly, he wanted Murtagh. But now that it was drawing near he admitted that he was not only nervous but also a little scared. So far simply everything with Murtagh had been great, and, most important, _different._ And of course Eragon knew that people liked sex, that they did it all the time, no matter the genders. But all _he_ could connect with it was pain and agony – and the wish to die. It was so hard to imagine it in any other way. Then again, it was Murtagh. And somehow Eragon knew the older one would make it alright. He trusted him, not only with his life, but also with his soul.

With a dull sound Saphira hit the earth and Eragon slid down her back clumsily. His limbs were so cold that he had trouble moving them. With clammy fingers he untied his dragon's tack and hugged her another time. After that he stumbled to the house.

Murtagh had gotten there a moment before him and held open the door. When Eragon entered the hallway, he was being grabbed by the shoulders and almost tossed against the wall. Then Murtagh was there and pressed his lips to Eragon's, who decided to close his eyes and give in. He opened his mouth and kissed back eagerly, noticing how some of the cold left him. After a few minutes Murtagh stopped and Eragon opened his eyes. Panting, they scrutinized each other.

"What do you think?" Murtagh asked hoarsely.

"Let's go upstairs," Eragon murmured, "it's not really comfy here."

"No, that's true." Murtagh grabbed Eragon's hand and dragged him along.

Once they were in the room, Murtagh quickly lit a fire while Eragon stood nearby, not really knowing what to do. Murtagh turned around and pulled him close again, this time kissing him very tenderly.

Eragon felt how tense he was and moved closer to the fireside, wanting the warmth to ease him a little. This was only kissing, this was something he relished, why was he so anxious?

Murtagh pulled away and hazel eyes watched him attentively. "Nervous?"

"A little," Eragon confessed, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Murtagh raised a hand and placed it on his cheek. "You know we don't have to do it. This is nothing obligatory."

The mere possibility of backing down made Eragon feel better already. "No. Don't worry so much, please. Isn't being nervous normal? But one of us has to stay cool."

Murtagh chuckled and his hand dropped down to the shoulder. "Right. It's just that I won't be able to 'stay cool', I can guarantee you that." He paused for a moment and his face went serious. "You remember the honesty agreement? Don't think you have to do anything for me, this is about you. I want you to tell me whenever it gets too much for you, do you hear me?"

"Yes," Eragon replied, "but don't wait for it." Deciding they had talked enough he placed his hands at Murtagh's hip and pulled at the wet shirt. It was tucked in pretty neatly and he had to pull harder. All of a sudden he heard a tearing noise and looked down at what had happened. The shirt was ripped open at the seam on the side and now finally Eragon saw some skin, which had been his original purpose. "Ooops," he giggled.

Murtagh laughed. "Great. Let me show you how it's done." He pulled off the remains of his own shirt quickly and then attended to Eragon's, which was hardly tugged in at all and therefore did not resist. "See?"

Eragon was still giggling. "You're a hero, you defeated my shirt. Want me to revere you now?"

"Of course." The tone of the low voice had changed completely and Eragon looked up into lewd eyes.

He felt his body respond at once. They were both standing there, bare from the waist upwards, and Eragon watched Murtagh's chest, which seemed to glow in the firelight. He bent forwards and kissed the soft skin above the collarbone and then moved down until his mouth found one hard nipple. He kissed it gently at first, but then remembered what Murtagh had done before and bit down softly, causing the older Rider to draw in his breath. Eragon felt his blood beginning to rush to his groins and noticed with satisfaction that he was not nervous anymore. This was familiar terrain. He raised one hand to replace his mouth, which was moving to the other side of the torso. He applied the same treatment there, adding some sucking, while his hand pinched simultaneously. This time he heard a low rumble build in the chest.

He chuckled slightly. "Murtagh?"

"What?"

"Have you ever noticed that you rather growl than moan?" He thought of all the noises he had already heard the older one make and chuckled even more.

Murtagh grunted. "No, I haven't, and I really don't care right now." He pulled Eragon up and kissed him briefly before he kneeled down and swiftly opened belt and pants.

Seeing the broad-shouldered, battle-hardened warrior kneel in front of him was compelling. The thought of what would come next made Eragon's heart race and his cock fully erect.

Suddenly he felt Murtagh kiss his arousal and run his tongue along the full length and Eragon got a bit dizzy. It increased when next he felt Murtagh's mouth enclose the head of his cock and tease it with his tongue. Now there were also hot waves of pleasure running down his body, making him cringe. Almost instinctively, his hands clasped around the back of Murtagh's head, holding him in place while he thrust into the mouth deeply, wanting as much contact as possible.

Apart from his own loud moan he heard a choked groan and pulled back quickly. He was frightened; he certainly did not want to hurt Murtagh. "Oh, I'm sorry, I-I-"

But Murtagh simply grasped for Eragon's hips and shoved him in deeply again. He twisted his head from side to side and sucked with force, which made Eragon's legs shake and his head swim some more.

Then he was taken completely by surprise. Murtagh's right hand had left his hip and now fondled his testes. Eragon heard himself whine and bit his lip. This was too good.

Murtagh moved his head up and down along the hard shaft, his left hand moving Eragon's hip in support. Eragon felt his erection screaming for release and tightened his grip on the older one again, adjusting to the rhythm and pushing the head forcefully every time it was going up. He felt his climax near and closed his eyes in blissful expectation.

However, all of a sudden Murtagh's hands let go and he freed his head, moving it away from his need quickly. With a disappointed whimper, Eragon watched him straighten up. "Why?" was all he managed to gasp.

Murtagh breathed heavily, wetting his lips. "Not now. I just wanted to turn you on."

"Managed well, I'd say." Eragon was still regretting the loss of contact.

Murtagh looked away from him and into the flames. He rubbed the skin between his brows and then began to explain hesitantly. "Listen, Eragon, I've thought about this. I want you to take the active part." He directed his gaze at Eragon now, who felt slightly nervous again. "You have never… uhh… penetrated someone, right?" When Eragon nodded he continued. "I thought so, just wanted to make sure. I want to do it this way, because there are no bad memories connected to it." He waited for a reaction.

Eragon swallowed. Murtagh wanted that _he_… fuck _him_? "Err, yes, uhm… sounds good. Your theory, I mean. But… I don't know what to do. I really don't know anything, you know, with two guys and… hmm." Some heat rose from his groin to his face.

Murtagh relaxed and smiled at him affectionately, before stepping close and kissing him again. "Don't worry," he reassured, "I'll guide you. And you know how I react whenever you touch me – you can do nothing wrong. Let's go to the bed."

"Wait!" Eragon called after him. "Look at me. Shouldn't we undress properly?" He kicked off his boots and pulled down the pants completely.

Murtagh had dropped his sword and was just opening his belt when Eragon reached him.

"Let me do that." Not waiting for a response, Eragon pushed Murtagh's hands away and slowly undressed him. Once he was done he stroked Murtagh's erection, his thumb playing with the head. Murtagh moaned quietly, sending shiver's down Eragon's spine. "_Now _we can go to bed."

Eragon watched Murtagh stoop at the bedside table and admired the well-shaped behind until he saw Murtagh grab a small flask. "What is that?"

"Oil?" Murtagh threw him a quizzical glance.

Eragon could not make sense of this. "What for?"

Murtagh's mouth twitched and he eyed him incredulously. "So that it won't hurt? You usually only do it without if you fancy pain."

"Oh. Uhm, so what are we going to do with it exactly?"

"Give me your hand." Murtagh held out his left and motioned with his finger.

Eragon stretched out his right and watched sceptically how Murtagh opened the flask and poured a little bit onto his hand. He felt the liquid threaten to drop down and quickly shifted his hand to prevent it. Next he noticed Murtagh watch him expectantly and felt stupid. What was he supposed to do? Murtagh seemed to sense his hesitation and grabbed for his hand, turned his body little and brought it close to his buttocks. With a squeak Eragon pulled away and stepped backwards. He shook his head frantically. "I. Cannot. Do that!"

Murtagh narrowed his eyes, not satisfied. "Why? You can't just go and pluck the ripe fruits."

Eragon could not imagine anything to be more embarrassing. "But… why… Wouldn't it be so much better if you got wet all on your own… like women do? Or as I've been told they do?"

Murtagh stared at him for a second in disbelief, then began to roar with laughter. He slumped down on the edge of the bed and had to hold his stomach, after a while having no little problem breathing properly. The longer he laughed the worse Eragon felt. "E-Eragon," Murtagh finally managed to say while panting for air, "it's not like you just have to swing your magical wand," he looked at the object in question, "and a women is ready for you. There's some work involved, too." Due to the lack of air his face was red.

Eragon felt so silly he just sat down next to Murtagh, not knowing what to say let alone do.

Murtagh had arrived at a small giggle and moved further up the bed, gesturing for Eragon to do likewise. Once he lay on his back, he opened the flask again, this time pouring some of the oil on his own hand. "Alright, I can somehow understand why you don't want to do it. So just watch and learn. And get over your embarrassment."

Gawking, Eragon saw how Murtagh twisted so he could reach his opening and began to lubricate himself. His heart raced and he thought he could not breathe anymore – he had never seen anything the like. And he enjoyed the sight.

After a moment Murtagh inserted one oily finger and Eragon swallowed. When the second finger followed, Murtagh moaned softly and Eragon felt precum emerge from the tip of his cock. This was better than all fantasies he had ever had. He was turned on so much that he thought he would burst.

"Like what you're seeing?" a throaty voice asked and hazel eyes watched him lustfully.

Instead of an answer, Eragon came close and moved his hand along Murtagh's arm until it came to rest on the older one's butt. Should he? Tentatively he moved a finger parallel to Murtagh's hand, not daring to look at what he was doing. He joined Murtagh's fingers and pushed inside. He felt the hips twist slightly and heard a low growl, but it was too odd. He moved his hand back quickly. "I... I'm sorry. It's strange."

"It's enough anyway." Murtagh was breathing hard. Once more he oiled his hand and this time grabbed for Eragon's hard shaft, lubricating it thoroughly.

The feel of the slippery hand moving along his length made Eragon groan aloud. "I should be the one giving _you_ pleasure," he murmured. "Tell me what I shall do."

Murtagh took hold of his shoulders and pulled him on top of him. He kissed him briefly, while his hand found Eragon's erection again, positioning it in front of his entrance. "Move forwards," he instructed in a whisper.

Eragon did as he was told and gasped. The head of his cock was surrounded by something warm and tight and he wanted to go further, yet was also afraid to do something Murtagh did not want him to. "I-It's ti-tight," he stuttered.

"Just… push… f-further." Murtagh tensed his back to steady himself.

Eragon complied readily and thrust hard, burying himself deeply. Exploding sensations raced through his body and he heard himself scream in pleasure. He pushed some more until he was in to the hilt.

Slowly, Murtagh's voice penetrated the haze of delight around his mind. "Wait, stop. Wait please!" He sounded a bit pained and Eragon saw him grimace.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He felt horrible and wanted to pull back out, but was hindered by Murtagh's strong grip on his behind.

"No," Murtagh swallowed dry, "stay there, just give me a moment. I haven't been fucked by a man for a while, and hardly ever by someone so big. I need to adjust."

"Alright," Eragon knew his face was burning; he was horribly ashamed. Never did he want to hurt someone that way. He decided to make up for his fault by kissing Murtagh and lowered himself a little. Naturally this little shift of position also extended to his groin, causing new, delightful friction, and moreover he now felt Murtagh's erection against his stomach. He cried out before he could even place the first kiss.

"Right," Murtagh soon gasped, "go ahead, Eragon."

Cautiously, Eragon began to move a little and then pulled out almost all the way, only to thrust back in again, more careful this time. He was nearly blinded by the flashes of light in his head. "Go-good like this?"

"Yes," Murtagh groaned, "you can… go as hard and fast as you wish now. Woooow." He writhed on the bed and bit his lip until it bled when Eragon did just that. He kept his hands on Eragon's waist and guided the younger one along, savouring every movement, meeting every push with all of his body.

"Lay still," Eragon ordered huskily after a few moments. He was about to come and wanted to relish every moment to the fullest. He thrust one last time vigorously and then felt his own release deep inside of Murtagh.

The older one pushed against him a few more times, milking him dry, until his low growl mixed with Eragon's whimpering and he climaxed, spilling all over his stomach.

Once he was sure that he would not faint by moving, Eragon pulled out, ignoring the sound of protest that came from Murtagh. He smiled at him and then shifted backwards a little, bringing his mouth to Murtagh's stomach and began to lick him clean with swift, confident moves. He applied the same treatment to the slowly softening cock and sucked at it, making sure he got all of Murtagh that was available.

Only then did he look at Murtagh again, who watched him with an inscrutable expression. Obviously he had taken him completely by surprise. Very pleased with himself, Eragon let himself being pulled upwards until he came to rest snugly in Murtagh's arms.

After a while he looked up once more, wanting to see Murtagh's face. He stared into eyes full of affection and warmth - and wetness. "Murtagh? Are you crying? Is something wrong?"

Murtagh shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong." His voice was choked. "I love you, little one."

Eragon needed a moment to fully realize what he had just heard. And he knew there was only one truth. "I love you, too," he whispered.

"I guess that means that you're officially my future now." Murtagh smiled.

"Yes." Eragon nodded forcefully. "And whatever will come our way, we will face it together."

"We will," Murtagh nodded likewise and wiped away a tear. Did a shared future also mean more of these childishly emotional outbursts? He did not care. "What about a kiss?"

With a grin Eragon closed the distance between their mouths. Nothing was left of their usual possessiveness, only tender caresses remained.

In a little break to cool down, Eragon let his gaze wander and hi eyes came to rest on one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. He nudged Murtagh in the side. "Look, over there." He pointed in the direction.

Murtagh shifted and squinted. "What is there?"

"On the armchair. Shiras."

"Who? Oh, the cat. You gave it a name?" Murtagh asked curiously.

"Yes, but anyway, did you know that he was there?" Eragon could remember nothing the like.

"No, but I didn't pay attention. Oh no, look at him…" Murtagh began to chortle.

"That's why I'm asking."

The cat stared at them with the most dignified and presumptuous manner possible. "I get the feeling that he has been watching us." Eragon giggled as well.

Murtagh shook his head. "Judging by his expression… Do you think he likes what he has seen?"

"Nope. Oh, Gods, this is embarrassing." Eragon snorted.

"Yes, it is." Murtagh began to laugh in earnest now and Eragon joined in.

So what, he thought after a while, one day they would make their love known to the whole world. Why not start with a cat?

* * *

**A/N:** So, what do you think? I'm pretty much wasted now, because for me, writing this that was such an experience. Pretty intense. Actually, this was the last chapter BUT there's an epilogue still to come, which I kind of want to match the prologue (naturally). If you liked this, you'll like the epilogue.

**Some trivia: **Did you know that in the language of the Inuit it's not "to sleep with each other", but "to laugh with each other"?


	29. Epilogue

**A/N: **I know this took long. But I didn't dare write the epilogue, because it's the last piece of the story, and it makes me sad. I loved writing this fic, it was an incredible experience. I don't even know what I'm going to do now in the afternoons (and evenings, and nights xD), maybe start having a life again? Who knows.

1. In the beginning I just started writing, wanting to get into the routine, and did not pay much attention to many things and knew even less. For example, I was too new to fanfiction to know what the general opinion on rape fics is (even though it's not an OC being raped), so I simply wrote the story that was in my head. Maybe it was good this way.

2. Why "Autumn Bliss"? Well, "Autumn", because that's when the story takes place, and "Bliss", because the days before I started writing, I listened a lot to the song "Bliss" by the band "Muse" and thus the title was born.

**Reviews:**

**-orene treke: **Maybe the author knows best, but he/she doesn't have to like it either, right? ;)

**-moony the chupz:** I know, but here's the thing: this fic is not a feeble attempt at coping with all the issues of book three, this is only about the guys' relationship. BUT I'm kind of leaving open the option of a sequel, right? I just don't know yet if I'll ever write it.

**-Tears Falling Freely:** I'm glad you liked the lemon… it's pretty hard to write it for me – which came kind of surprisingly, because in my head it's very clear ;)

**-animeluva 713:** :bows: Gracias. I hope future fics will be to your liking as well. ;)

**-Zack-Cody-Dylan-Cole:** Yeah, he was kind of cute, I think.

**-Jack Skellington's Mistress:** And I think it's so true… ;)

* * *

**Epilogue**

10th Hunting Moon

* * *

Carefully Murtagh led Eragon through the small door into the hut. The warm, humid air surrounded him immediately and he saw his brother relax. The few steps from the main house here had already been enough to chill them both.

Unmistakably curious but calm, Eragon stood next to Murtagh, eyes still blindfolded, trustfully awaiting what would come next. It had surprised Murtagh to hear that on his many inspection tours through the house, Eragon had not bothered to take a look at the estate buildings. He was sure that it would make the surprise even better.

They would leave the mansion tomorrow, would probably never lay eyes on Breoch again. War was awaiting them, their path overshadowed by danger and peril and, because of Murtagh, they would not even be safe with their allies.

But this night was theirs. And it was going to be one to remember for the dark times ahead.

Slowly Murtagh removed the cloth that was covering Eragon's eyes and with satisfaction he watched the younger one take in his surroundings. It was a small, one-room building, dominated by a copper bathing tub and a large fireside next to it, on which hung a big kettle to heat water. Murtagh had been here previously and everything was prepared – it was the perfect timing. The tub was filled with water and a light steam hung in the air above it. The fire was blazing and filled the hut with a golden light.

"Oh, this is awesome, I-" Eragon sounded amazed, but Murtagh quickly laid a finger on his lips, silently asking him to be quiet. They had agreed not to talk and Eragon smiled apologetically, but then gestured with his arms, eyes gleaming, to get his point across. Murtagh smiled back and nodded. The thought of a warm bath with Eragon was almost intoxicating.

He grabbed Eragon's hand and led him to the bathtub where they both undressed swiftly, eager to get warm again.

Eragon slid into the water first and a long, contented sigh escaped him. Murtagh went in afterwards, sat down opposite of Eragon and closed his eyes. He had thought about this for days, but always postponed it. If he had remembered just how good it felt, he would have come here weeks ago. On the other hand, now he would not have to enjoy this on his own, so it would be even better. He opened his eyes again and saw bright blue ones sparkle at him, keen to go on. He complied readily and shifted, until after some tangling and untangling of their limbs he came to rest behind Eragon.

The water was up to their chests and Murtagh observed small drops of sweat breaking out on Eragon's shoulders and neck. He swiftly brought down his lips and tasted the salty, earthy flavour that was his love. Bit by bit his tongue traced its way upwards till he reached the left earlobe and nibbled at it gently. Eragon moaned quietly and relaxed against Murtagh completely. His right hand rested on Murtagh's calf and stroked it leisurely. The older one could tell that there was no fear, no anxiety, not even nervousness in Eragon's posture. He loosened up as well, sure to have found the way to make it alright.

For a few nights now they had slept with each other, but so far it had always been Eragon on top of him – or behind him, Murtagh corrected himself with a grin – and at times the younger one had taken him so forcefully that Murtagh was rather sore. But he knew that if Eragon wanted it again later tonight, he would not deny it. There was simply no way of turning him down – ever. It was an amazingly intense experience. But still, he wanted to be in control again.

He embraced the body in front of him, resting his chin on Eragon's left shoulder, and began to caress the well-built chest, making the young man shiver. Murtagh felt how his arousal began to be noticeable and pressed himself against the back of Eragon, wanting him to feel it, too, wanting to hear him. True enough a little groan broke the silence of the room. Satisfied, Murtagh reached lower down and got hold of the hard cock waiting there for him. He closed his hand firmly around it and began to slide it up and down with determined strokes.

At some point in the second night that they had had sex, Eragon had asked him if he did not miss being the active one. Murtagh had replied with a definite 'no' – which had been the only possible answer after the fuck that Eragon had given him just minutes before. Yet now that it was drawing near so rapidly, he knew it was not quite true. He missed it, missed it a lot, and he was eager to both pleasure the young one but also bury himself in him.

He bit down on Eragon's neck and then got up swiftly, ignoring the little sound of protest and questioning eyes following his every move. He reached for the oil at the side of the tub and rubbed it on his erection before sitting down again. Blessed be the different properties of water and oil!

Knowing what was to come, Eragon turned his head, smiled at him and next pursed his lips, demanding a kiss. Murtagh bent forward and granted it to him willingly, once more making contact between his right hand and Eragon's need. Still kissing his brother intensely, Murtagh brought his second hand between their bodies and moved it down the back. He squeezed one butt cheek firmly, feeling Eragon thrust into his hand in response, and then went further until his index finger reached the opening. Hesitating only for an instant, he pushed it in tentatively.

Eragon did not tense for one second. He had said that he was ready, but Murtagh found it almost unbelievable to see just how much Eragon trusted him, how untroubled he was right now. Encouraged, he pressed on and then moved his finger in and out, getting the other one used to the feeling. He still had the solid erection securely in his right and stroked it harder, at the same time moving in a second finger. Eragon stiffened shortly, but then relaxed again, matters being so different and so much better than he recalled.

Murtagh felt close to bursting and decided it was high time. He brought both hands to the slender waist and lifted Eragon a few inches until he felt the head of his cock at the opening. Very carefully he lowered Eragon onto his lap and sensed how his erection moved in the first inch.

He paused like that for a moment, enjoying the tightness around his organ, and then pushed in further. He felt the close ring of muscles very distinctively when he passed it. A muted scream of delight pierced the air and he knew it was coming from his lungs.

He stopped as the blond had stiffened once more. But then Eragon leaned back, stretched his neck until his mouth reached Murtagh's chin and kissed it from underneath, slowly moving upwards along the bone until he reached the ear. At the same time he pushed himself down, whimpering quietly, but staying where he was.

For a short moment Murtagh moved one hand away from the hip and slid it all the way down from the top of Eragon's head, along his chest, tummy, and finally it came to rest on his cock. He touched it gently until Eragon's left enclosed his hand and applied pressure. Soon after, Eragon placed the hand on his hip again, signalling noticeably what he wanted.

Obliging all too keenly, Murtagh raised him a little before bringing him down swiftly, feeling both their hearts race. Slowly the nervous breathing of the younger one turned into small sounds of pleasure and he grabbed the brim of the tub to become independent from Murtagh moving him.

Murtagh kissed the neck next to his mouth tenderly, licking away the sweat drops. Once Eragon moved up and down on his own, Murtagh caressed the other's erection again, matching the rhythm perfectly. His low growls were suddenly joined by a loud moan from Eragon, who had apparently found the position that hit his special spot.

"What... is that?" Little by little Eragon increased his pace and cried out again and again.

Murtagh could hardly speak, his climax was nearing rapidly. "Ta-talk. Later." He felt the cock in his hand twitch, and seconds later Eragon's whole body contracted, squeezing Murtagh inside of him mercilessly. It was enough to blacken Murtagh's vision and with a last thrust into the tight opening he came.

They both slackened noticeably afterwards, panting hard. Murtagh hugged Eragon closely from behind and the younger one turned his head again until their lips met briefly. After that he relaxed into the embrace, leant his head against Murtagh's shoulder and closed his eyes.

Now only the quiet crackling of the fire was to be heard, and an occasional splash of water when one of them shifted a little.

Murtagh was very aware of the handsome body in his arms that was finally turning muscular again. He also felt the soft, wet hair on his shoulder as well as the regular, strong heartbeat that joined his own so perfectly.

Here he was, holding the person that he loved from the bottom of his heart. Knowing that this person loved him back just as much.

Maybe fate did not hate him after all.


End file.
